#its this constant back and forth of making me feel good and happy and like maybe they like me

[xylatox]

And I've made it to Amia's Valentine Fic!!!! It's of Taehyun (1 of my 2 biases) so I'm extra excited AND academic rivals so it's enemies to lovers, so excited. Also it's my first time reading a long fic from her too so I'm so excited!!!!

it wasn't just his irritatingly perfect smile, or his perfect grades, or his constant ability to somehow do everything just a little bit better than you, no. it was something more insidious—something about how effortlessly he seemed to exist in a world where everything was perfectly aligned in his favor. he was always better, always one step ahead. — I absolutely love how instantly we see that reader's irritation with Taehyun has a borderline of attraction to it, they do say hate and love are on 2 sides of the same coin.

I also love that they're president and vice president, it somehow makes the tension between them do much more appealing. It's even more hilarious when we're told that Taehyun is nice to us like😭😭 I love this dynamic instantly.

you hated how taehyun made you feel seen, how he seemed to know you better than anyone else, even though you barely let anyone in. he noticed the way you hesitated, the way your voice would shake when you pretended not to care. it was infuriating. you’d shove it all down, but he’d always come back for more, always patient, always gentle, like a relentless force pulling at the edges of your defenses.— god I love this, I love that the grumpy x sunshine trope is reader being the grumpy one omg, I'm living for this.

but he didn’t budge. instead, a small chuckle escaped him, low and unhurried, like he found your irritation amusing. he remained still, waiting, that same infuriatingly gentle smile tugging at his lips. – God he's so sweet but infuriating, intentional and calculated.

taehyun laughs, a quiet, breathy sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “you’re awfully cute when you’re smug.”—SCREAMING TAEHYUN IS SO CUTE :(((

Reader's response is so black cat coded (me), I absolutely love her so much. I love their banter after meeting with the principal, it's so natural and just the back and forth is absolutely amazing.

a beat of silence followed, filled only by the distant chatter of students lingering in the hallways and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. then, with a loud thud, beomgyu—who had been balancing his chair precariously on two legs—let it drop back down, the abrupt sound making jiwon, the treasurer, flinch. — I love beomgyu so much his personality is absolutely amazing.

taehyun, either genuinely oblivious or just expertly unfazed, regarded him with a blank expression, blinking once. “...that’s just a prom with plants.” — this is so hilarious to me because it's so Taehyun coded, it reminds me of the video where it's a qna and they ask them what they're most afraid of and Taehyun says death in the most deadpan way, yeah, this moment reminds me exactly of that LOL.

you tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to deliberate. “hmm. it does sound good, but i don’t know, gyu. the fact that it came from you makes me a little skeptical.” — this is what I was absolutely thinking LOL, like after Gyu's last ideas even I'm skeptical. I am loving the conversations so far, it makes me so happy.

“says the girl who still thinks vanilla ice cream is the superior flavor,” beomgyu shot back, eyes gleaming. — absolutely unrelated but i had to read this line twice because I genuinely thought it said villain icecream and I was so confused.

I love that after the idea is settled the banter seems to have mellowed out a tiny bit, it's so cute and the moment after like—taehyun blinked at you, his expression unreadable, caught between something unreadable and something almost… curious. then, his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk forming, though this one was softer—less teasing, more thoughtful.— god I love them.

it was small, delicate, impossibly soft-looking, its petals shimmering faintly with an ethereal glow. the light was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there, a quiet pulse of something that shouldn’t be real. your eyes widen, your chest tightening, the air around you suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy, as if the weight of the moment itself was pressing down on you, demanding to be acknowledged. there, resting in the curve of your palm, was a single blue hydrangea. your fingers twitched again, hesitant, unsure, before finally moving—just barely grazing the petals. they were cool beneath your fingertips, soft as silk, fragile in a way that made your stomach twist. and yet, the moment you made contact, a warmth surged through you—different from before, deeper, curling through your chest, spreading outward in gentle waves, like ripples disturbing still water. — and the fic title makes an appearance hehe, I love this so much!! I was so invested in them I forgot it was a soulmates au😭😭

there's a part of me that hopes that Taehyun somehow knows they're already soulmates, but I may be asking for too much😔😞 my heart breaks that reader's first instinct is to see if the bond can be broken somehow despite small signs of feelings for Taehyun being there.

"seriously, what’s up with you?" taehyun continued, voice quieter now, softer around the edges, but no less insistent. his eyes were sharp, searching, tracing over your profile like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he wasn’t meant to solve. "you’ve been acting weird since yesterday. not just weird—weird in a way that actually bothers me. and that’s saying something."— crying because Taehyun is so observant to realize how odd her behaviour is :((

he knew you wouldn’t like that. instead, taehyun simply sighed, a quiet, barely-there smile tugging at the corners of his lips. shaking his head to himself, he leaned back in his chair, voice a hushed murmur as he muttered, "maybe another time." — god this is so sweet, I genuinely love them so much, again the way you do conversations brings so much joy to me.

I love that her walls were down for a moment and touched Tae while he was asleep and was so in denial after, reader is adorable

but instead of prying, which was something he would normally do just to get a rise out of you, taehyun simply smiled. not the usual smirk, not the playful glint of mischief, but something softer, something almost… fond. — Tae either knows theyre soulmates, likes her or both, and I vote both.

but as you stood there, watching his figure disappear into the station, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. that, for the first time, you weren’t entirely relieved to see him go. — and the walls have crumbled more, I love the progression thus far.

The moment with them on the bike is so cute, their banter is my absolute favorite thing. God, taehyun adding Blue Hydrangeas into the mix, now he's just being a tease honestly either knowinglyor unknowingly. This entire moment where they're in the venue is so cute, from the conversation, to him asking her to the winter ball, oh my god, I'm holding my heart.

HE DIDNT KNOWWW😭😭😭😭😭😭 OH MY GOD IM SOBBING IM GOINGNDNSJ?????? He just really liked her all along omg this is amazing.

But his reaction is adorable like —"i knew it,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, as if the words had been lingering in the back of his mind all this time, just waiting to be spoken. “so this was why… why i’ve always felt this… pull towards you… no matter how much you tried to push me away.” —god this is so sweet

NOT READER RUNNING AWAY NOOO😭😭 and we see how it affected Tae no :(((( The moment on the day of the ball breaks my heart too no :(((

"i never should've left that night," you choked out, shaking your head, tears clinging to your lashes. "i should’ve turned back, should’ve looked at you, should’ve realized what was right in front of me." a single tear slipped down your cheek, warm against your skin, but you didn’t wipe it away. "i should’ve told you then," you hesitated, voice cracking, "i should’ve told you that it was always you." — oh my goodness :((( the kiss awwwww my heart is so full, I love that he still has the audacity to tease her after that like ugh

I loved this soso much Amia, it was so amazing, I will say it again, your way to carry the conversations while showing the dynamics between characters is amazing as it also shows the progression. This really was an amazing piece and I'm so glad I finally read it.

⸝⸝ blue hydrangeas ┈ kth.

⸝⸝ IN a world where soulmates are tied by "soulblooms," flowers that manifest on the hand when touched by fate’s match, you have spent your life with an empty wrist and a guarded heart. but when a fleeting touch with taehyun—a boy you find insufferably perfect—awakens a blue hydrangea on your grasp, everything you thought you knew about fate, connection, and him, turned on its head.

pairings and tags. academicrival!taehyun x fem!reader . soulmate au. enemies to lovers . slowburn . grumpy x sunshine . forced proximity . slowburn . taehyun is a huge tease . tension !!!! not actually unrequited love? angst

word count. 29.7k

short note! it's finally here!!!! it was such an honor to work alongside such talented moas! i am beyond grateful to be part of something this special >< every moment spent working on this was filled with so much love and excitement, and i hope you all enjoy it as much as we did creating it!! <3

you hated kang taehyun with every fiber of your being.

there was something about him that irked you to your very core, something that made your teeth grit and your stomach twist every time you were forced to be near him.

it wasn't just his irritatingly perfect smile, or his perfect grades, or his constant ability to somehow do everything just a little bit better than you, no. it was something more insidious—something about how effortlessly he seemed to exist in a world where everything was perfectly aligned in his favor. he was always better, always one step ahead.

and it wasn’t just in the classroom either. taehyun's reach extended far beyond that, into places where you thought you had some semblance of control. in the student council, for example, where you held the position of vice president—a role you worked your ass off to attain—taehyun somehow made being the president look like a walk in the park.

with his easy charm and flawless leadership, he outshone you at every turn. it wasn’t that you didn’t have the capacity for leadership, you knew you were just as capable. more capable. but taehyun? he was like a magnet, drawing the attention of everyone in the room with a simple flash of his smile, a soft laugh that echoed off the walls of the council room.

you hated how easy he made it look.

every time you thought you had finally gained some ground, taehyun would be there. standing just a little bit taller, a little bit more poised—effortlessly securing the praise, the respect, the adoration. it was maddening.

you hated him.

and yet, it wasn’t just the ways he made you feel small, it was how he never let you hide it. how, no matter how obviously you displayed your contempt for him, he remained annoyingly unfazed, like he could see right through the walls you tried to build. he never flinched, never reacted in the way you expected. he’d simply laugh, his voice low and warm, as though everything you did to push him away was just a minor inconvenience.

the worst part? taehyun was nice to you. you could never understand it.

it was almost like he reveled in it—like he enjoyed seeing you fume in frustration. he would do things like open doors for you, something so simple and innocent, yet it felt like a taunt. he’d hold the door wide, with that stupid, gentle smile of his. he would always ask how you were, even though it felt like a question that was both too casual and too personal, as if he could sense the tension in your voice, the subtle crack in your facade whenever you answered him.

you hated how taehyun made you feel seen, how he seemed to know you better than anyone else, even though you barely let anyone in. he noticed the way you hesitated, the way your voice would shake when you pretended not to care. it was infuriating. you’d shove it all down, but he’d always come back for more, always patient, always gentle, like a relentless force pulling at the edges of your defenses.

you hated that no matter how many times you tried to push him away, he would be right back the next day, like nothing ever happened. you’d look away, stubborn and angry, trying to ignore the faint flutter in your chest when he smiled at you. his smile—always so warm, so effortless—made everything worse. because deep down, you knew you hated it... but you couldn’t look away.

before you could shove the thought away, before you could shake off the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the static hum of the intercom crackled through the classroom, making you flinch.

“president and vice president of the student council, please report to the principal’s office.”

the words rang in your ears, a sudden disruption to the taut thread of your thoughts. you let out a slow breath, forcing your shoulders to relax, pushing down whatever unwanted feeling had started to creep in.

you turned on your heel without another glance in his direction, your steps measured and purposeful as you headed towardss the door. the room buzzed faintly behind you, students murmuring about why the two of you were being called this time. probably another event to oversee, another responsibility stacked onto the ever-growing pile. 

but just as you reached the door, he moved ahead of you, stopping right at the threshold. his hand rested lightly against the frame as he turned back, expression as unreadable as ever—soft yet calculated, warm yet knowing.

“after you,” taehyun says smoothly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

your eyes flickered to him, lingering for only a second before you scoffed. of course. always so proper, so polite. always so perfectly composed.

“just go, kang.” your voice was clipped, your patience thinning at the edges.

but he didn’t budge. instead, a small chuckle escaped him, low and unhurried, like he found your irritation amusing. he remained still, waiting, that same infuriatingly gentle smile tugging at his lips.

for a moment, you considered pushing past him, ignoring his presence entirely. but something about the way he stood there—calm, unshaken, as if he had all the time in the world—made your skin prickle. unwilling to prolong the moment, you rolled your eyes and stepped through first, feeling the weight of taehyun’s gaze trailing behind you as he finally followed.

the hallway was quieter than usual, the usual rush of students dwindling between periods. your footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floors, the rhythmic tap of your shoes the only sound filling the space between you. for once, you wished it would stay that way.

but taehyun was never one to let silence settle for too long.

“you did well on the last presentation,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet with an ease that made your fingers twitch.

you kept your gaze ahead, eyes fixed on the stretch of hallway before you. “so?”

taehyun hummed, slow and thoughtful. “the teachers were impressed. even the principal didn’t have anything to correct, which is rare.”

there was something in his tone—something easy yet deliberate. you weren’t sure if he was just making conversation or if he was testing you, seeing how long it would take before you snapped at him.

your fingers curled at your sides. “is that supposed to mean something?”

taehyun let out a soft chuckle, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “it means you’re good at what you do.”

you stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye, but his expression remained neutral, unreadable. there was no teasing lilt to his voice, no smugness in his words. just a simple statement, spoken like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you looked away, exhaling through your nose. “obviously.”

taehyun laughs, a quiet, breathy sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “you’re awfully cute when you’re smug.”

your steps faltered—just barely, just for a second—before you snapped your head towardss him with a sharp glare. “don’t say weird things.”

but he only smiled, eyes twinkling with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist.

“it’s not weird if it’s true.”

your fingers twitched at your sides, a heat creeping up the back of your neck. you hated this. hated how easily he got under your skin, how effortlessly he chipped away at your walls like it was second nature to him. like he wasn’t even trying.

but more than anything, you hated that, despite everything, you never had it in you to stop him.

before you knew it, the office door was already looming ahead, its dark wooden surface polished to a near mirror-like shine, reflecting the dim glow of the hallway’s overhead lights. despite the countless times you had stood before it, waiting to be summoned inside for meetings, discussions, and the occasional reprimand over minor council disputes, it never failed to fill you with a familiar sense of dread. not because you feared the principal—he was reasonable enough—but because you knew that whatever awaited you beyond that door would inevitably mean more work, more responsibilities, and more time spent in taehyun’s infuriating presence.

your fingers twitched at your sides, itching to get this over with. but before you could reach for the handle, taehyun was already moving, stepping forward with that effortless confidence that made your teeth grind.

his knuckles met the wood in three firm, evenly spaced knocks—never too loud, never too soft. just right. of course.

then, without hesitation, he twisted the handle and pushed the door open, but instead of stepping through, he turned to you, that familiar, insufferably polite smile curving his lips.

“after you,” he says once again, his voice smooth, as if this wasn’t the hundredth time he’d done this.

your lips pressed into a thin, irritated line, and you felt the immediate, burning need to roll your eyes. instead, you inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to push past him just to spite him.

“stop doing that,” you muttered, stepping into the office without sparing him a glance.

behind you, taehyun let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and warm, like he had been expecting your reaction all along. you could practically feel the amusement radiating off him as he followed you inside at an easy, unhurried pace, as if this was all some game to him.

the office was warm, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faintest traces of old paper and polished wood. the large mahogany desk stood at the center, stacked neatly with files, reports, and what you assumed were upcoming event proposals.

behind the desk sat the principal, an older man with sharp, perceptive eyes that held a kindness just beneath their surface. his neatly pressed suit was accompanied by a tie that looked slightly askew, as if he had been rushing between meetings all morning. at the sight of you both, he offered a welcoming nod, his hands clasping together in front of him.

“ah, president, vice president,” he greeted, his voice carrying that authoritative weight you had grown used to. “thank you for coming on such short notice.”

you returned the gesture with a curt nod, holding your hands behind your back in an attempt to brace yourself for whatever was about to be dropped onto your already full plate. beside you, taehyun dipped his head in acknowledgment, his posture effortlessly composed.

the principal didn’t waste time, leaning forward slightly as he rested his forearms on the desk. his sharp gaze flickered between the two of you, a knowing glint settling in his eyes.

“i’m sure you both know what time of year it is,” he began, his tone measured, expectant.

your brows furrowed slightly, the question lingering in the air for only a second before taehyun, ever the perfect student, filled the silence.

“the winter ball,” he supplied smoothly, the answer rolling off his tongue like second nature.

the principal’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “precisely. it’s one of our school’s most anticipated events, and this year, we want it to be even more memorable than the last.” he gestured towardss the neatly stacked files on his desk, his fingers tapping lightly against the topmost folder. “as always, we’re prepared to provide you with all the budget you need to bring it to life. however, the student council will be in charge of every aspect of the planning.”

your stomach twisted.

of course it was. as if the student council didn’t already have enough responsibilities—event coordination, student affairs, disciplinary oversight—now you had to organize the biggest event of the year on top of everything else.

your fingers curled slightly at your sides, a quiet sigh threatening to escape before you swallowed it back.

“understood,” taehyun said without missing a beat, his tone carrying that same unwavering confidence he always spoke with. “we’ll handle everything.”

your eyes snapped to him, barely concealing your incredulity. we? we weren’t the ones who would end up buried in logistical nightmares and last-minute disasters. you were. while taehyun would breeze through meetings with his stupid, easy charm, you’d be the one pulling late nights, making sure every detail was perfect.

but of course, he looked completely at ease, his expression betraying none of the stress you already felt settling onto your shoulders.

the principal nodded in approval, leaning back in his chair. “good. i expected nothing less.” he glanced between the two of you once more before offering a small, knowing smile. “i trust that the two of you, along with the rest of the council, will make this year’s ball unforgettable.”

as the meeting wrapped up, you and taehyun dipped into a synchronized bow, offering the principal a respectful farewell before turning towardss the door. you moved first, your steps quick and purposeful, eager to escape the weight of expectations that had just been placed on your shoulders.

the moment you stepped out into the hallway and the door clicked shut behind you, the sigh you had been holding back finally slipped past your lips. it was long and heavy, filled with every ounce of exasperation you had swallowed down in that office.

taehyun must have noticed, because just as you were trying to compose yourself, you caught the slightest movement from the corner of your eye—his hand, lifting ever so slightly, as if to place a reassuring touch on your shoulder.

you moved away before he could.

your sharp glare met his gaze, and for a second, the air between you crackled with tension. his hand dropped back to his side, but the teasing curve of his lips remained.

“don’t,” you warned, voice flat.

taehyun let out a soft chuckle, utterly unbothered. “what? i was just going to tell you that you’re gonna do great.”

“oh, shut up,” you muttered, rubbing your temple as if that would somehow ease the headache forming at the thought of the endless planning ahead. “this is a lot of work. again. do they not realize how much we already do?”

taehyun hummed in thought, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blazer. “well, to be fair, the winter ball is a big deal. people look forward to it all year. it makes sense they want to go all out.”

“great. good for them,” you deadpanned. “meanwhile, i’ll be drowning in event proposals, budgeting spreadsheets, and people asking if we can add a ‘winter wonderland’ theme for the fourth time.”

taehyun chuckled, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at you. “you’re being dramatic.”

you shot him an exasperated look, one that should’ve been enough to burn through his unshakable confidence. should’ve been, but of course, this was kang taehyun you were dealing with—unfazed, infuriating, and always ready with some smooth remark that made your blood boil.

“oh, am i? am i really, kang?” you seethed, voice laced with frustration. “because guess who’s going to be stuck micromanaging everything while everyone else just throws out random ideas and disappears?”

taehyun blinked at you, the picture of innocence. “us?”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as you leveled him with a sharp glare. “me,” you corrected, jabbing a finger against your chest. “because you’ll probably just sit there smiling and nodding while i suffer.”

his laughter came easily, light and unhurried, like the idea of your impending misery was genuinely amusing to him. the corners of his eyes crinkled in that stupidly endearing way, and for a moment, you forgot what you were mad about.

“come on, give me some credit,” taehyun replies, and before you could take a step back, he nudged your arm playfully—so effortless, so natural, like touching you was just second nature to him. you recoiled instantly, pulling away before the warmth of his skin could linger against your jacket. “i help out a lot too. i mean, i am the president.”

“oh, please,” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest like a barrier, like it would somehow protect you from his relentless confidence. “you showing up to meetings with an iced americano and nodding along to whatever’s being said is not helping.” taehyun’s grin widened, all sharp amusement, like he was enjoying this far more than he should. “hey, that’s unfair. sometimes i write stuff down.”

“you doodle.”

“art is important for brainstorming.”

you shot him a deadpan look. “so is actual brainstorming.”

but taehyun didn’t waver. his smile softened just a fraction, the teasing edge in his tone giving way to something quieter, something dangerously close to sincerity.

“i do mean it,” taehyun said, and this time, he didn’t laugh. didn’t flash that insufferable, knowing smirk. didn’t lace his words with teasing or smug amusement. instead, his voice came quieter, steadier—like an oath meant to be kept. “i’m not just going to let you do all the work. i’ll help, i promise.”

his words should have rolled right off you, should have been easy to dismiss like every other time he made empty assurances with that effortless confidence of his. but something about the way he said it—the way he looked at you—made you pause for just a fraction of a second too long.

you scoffed again, but the usual sharpness in your voice was missing, dulled by the unexpected sincerity lingering between you. “i know you,” you muttered, grasping for the familiar rhythm of irritation that kept you balanced around him. “you’ll just charm everyone into doing things for you while i handle the logistics.”

taehyun’s grin stretched wider, his eyes glinting with something dangerously playful—like you had just unknowingly handed him the perfect setup for a joke. “well, yeah,” he admitted with a casual shrug, the corners of his lips twitching. “that’s called teamwork.”

you groaned dramatically, tilting your head back, pressing your fingers against the bridge of your nose as if you could physically push away the headache he was undoubtedly going to give you. “you are so—”

“but,” he cut in smoothly, and there was something in his tone that made you drop your hand and actually look at him. he wasn’t done. “since you’re so convinced i’m just going to sit back and make you do everything, let me put it on record—i’ll be in charge of buying the decorations. i’ll help with booking the venue, the catering, and dealing with the faculty.”

your arms, which had been folded tightly against your chest, slackened just slightly.

“i’ll help set up, too,” taehyun continued easily, ticking things off on his fingers like he was reading off a checklist. “and—” he shot you a knowing glance, “—i’ll make sure no one dumps last-minute work on you like they always do.”

your mouth opened—whether to argue or to question him, you weren’t even sure—but nothing came out.

taehyun noticed. he always did.

“what?” he teased, leaning in slightly like he was studying your reaction up close. “shocked into silence? i should say sincere things more often.”

you snapped out of it, glaring as you stepped back. “i just didn’t expect you to actually think about any of this.”

“what, you think i don’t pay attention?” taehyun hummed, tilting his head. “i know you do all the heavy lifting every year. i know you always end up picking up the slack when people flake. and i know you’d rather pretend you don’t care than let anyone see you stressed about it.”

taehyun smiled, but it wasn’t smug this time. it was softer. easier. genuine.“so, yeah,” he said, as if his words hadn’t just shaken something loose inside you. “i’ll help. properly.”

you swallowed, forcing yourself to scoff, to keep your defenses up. “yeah, well,” you muttered, looking away. “you better.”

he chuckled, unfazed as always. “see? we’re making progress already.”

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” he said, and the worst part was that he sounded like he knew it. ꒰💐꒱ the student council room buzzed with the quiet shuffle of papers and the faint hum of conversation as the members gathered around the long wooden table, settling into their seats. the late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting elongated shadows across the polished surface.

you sat near the head of the table, arms crossed, posture composed, but your patience already thinning before the meeting had even begun. beside you, taehyun leaned forward slightly, his usual composed expression unreadable as he flipped through a neatly organized binder—probably filled with notes and plans that he had somehow managed to put together in the few hours since you both left the principal’s office.

the moment the last person took their seat, you cleared your throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “alright, let’s get this over with,” you said, ignoring the amused glance taehyun shot your way. “as you all know, the winter ball is coming up, and since the school is giving us the budget we need, it’s up to us to handle all the planning.”

taehyun, ever the composed leader, leaned forward with his arms resting against the table, scanning the three of you with his usual unreadable expression. “which means first things first,” he says, “we need a theme.”

a beat of silence followed, filled only by the distant chatter of students lingering in the hallways and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. then, with a loud thud, beomgyu—who had been balancing his chair precariously on two legs—let it drop back down, the abrupt sound making jiwon, the treasurer, flinch. he leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm, his eyes glinting with easy confidence. "what about… a black-and-white party?"

you blinked, eyebrows furrowing. “you mean… just two colors?”

"yeah," beomgyu confirmed, nonchalant. "like, everyone wears black or white. sleek. simple. no weird decorations." he shrugged as if he had just solved an age-old dilemma, clearly satisfied with himself. "it’ll be easy."

taehyun hummed, tapping the end of his pen against his notebook in thought. "it’s not bad, but it might be too minimal. people like having something to work with beyond just a color palette."

you nodded, already envisioning how utterly lifeless it would be. "and it could get boring fast. we need something with more… i don’t know. atmosphere."

before beomgyu could defend his idea, jiwon suddenly straightened in his seat, his perfectly styled hair falling slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head in what you knew was supposed to be a calculated display of charm. “hmm,” he mused, twirling his pen between his fingers. “what about an enchanted garden theme? twinkling fairy lights, roses everywhere, maybe even a little love-seat corner for couples…” his eyes flickered towardss taehyun, the end of his sentence laced with a easy lilt. “it’d be so cool, don’t you think, taehyun?”

taehyun, either genuinely oblivious or just expertly unfazed, regarded him with a blank expression, blinking once. “...that’s just a prom with plants.” jiwon’s smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, running a hand through his neatly styled hair. “well, not just a prom! we could—”

“it’s a winter formal,” taehyun cut in smoothly, his tone polite but unwavering. “not a midsummer night’s dream.” jiwon huffed, his expression tightening for a split second before he forced another airy laugh, though the slight flicker of irritation in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you. “fine. whatever,”

taehyun paid him no mind, glancing at the rest of you. "anyone else?"

beomgyu, who was still highly entertained by the exchange, perked up once more, his lips stretching into a grin. "okay, okay," he sighed, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "what if we do… a retro neon theme?"

you, taehyun, and jiwon turned to look at him at the exact same time, identical expressions of sheer disbelief written across your faces.

“…beomgyu,” you deadpanned, eyeing him as if he had just suggested you all hold the event in a convenience store parking lot. “this is a winter formal.”

beomgyu blinked innocently. “yeah, and?”

taehyun tilted his head slightly, looking at him as if he were trying to decipher an alien language. “so, you want people to slow dance under fluorescent pink lights?”

beomgyu crossed his arms, clearly standing by his idea. “who said anything about slow dancing? picture this—electric blues, neon signs, a dance floor that actually lights up. vintage, but modern.”

you stared at him. “that literally makes no sense.”

beomgyu groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. "you guys are impossible.”

before another argument could erupt, jiwon clapped his hands together, his eyes brightening with excitement. "ooh! what about a winter wonderland?"

you physically felt your soul leave your body. slowly, deliberately, you turned to face him, fingers tightening around your pen. "jiwon," you said, voice calm yet edged with thinly veiled exasperation, "it is already winter. people are literally living in a winter wonderland right now."

he pouted slightly, tilting his head as if that would somehow make his idea sound more appealing. "but we could make it cute! like, snowflakes everywhere, and maybe a big fake ice castle—"

“so… the exact same theme the school has used like four times before?” beomgyu interjected, raising an eyebrow.

jiwon frowned, tapping his pen against the table in thought. “well, i mean… yeah, but it’s classic.”

you exhaled through your nose, pressing your fingers against your temple. classic or not, it was painfully predictable, and if you had to sit through another event drowning in fake icicles and blue-tinted lights as if you were in the antartica, you were going to lose your mind.

“we need something fresh,” you muttered. “something that actually makes people excited to go.”

taehyun glanced at you, a knowing glint in his eyes. "so, you want something that stands out?"

you turned to him, narrowing your eyes. "obviously." beomgyu, who had been silent for a beat too long, suddenly leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. “alright, then.” he let his arms drop back down, his gaze flickering between the three of you before a slow grin curved on his lips. “what about a masquerade ball?”

the room went quiet.

taehyun’s pen stilled between his fingers. you turned your head just in time to catch the way his gaze flickered to yours, brows raising slightly in silent acknowledgment. huh.

you narrowed your eyes, already seeing the gears turning in his head.

he knew.

you knew.

and beomgyu, perceptive as ever, caught onto the silent exchange in an instant. his grin widened, mischief flickering behind his eyes as he leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the table. “what’s with the looks? did i just blow your tiny little minds?”

you scoffed, but the corners of your lips twitched, betraying your amusement. “please. let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

taehyun hummed, drumming his fingers against his notebook, the sound a steady, thoughtful rhythm. “she’s right. however, it’s actually a solid concept.”

beomgyu clutched his chest dramatically, leaning back in his chair like he had just been struck by an arrow. “oh my god. did the two scariest people in student council just agree with me?”

jiwon, who had been slouching in his seat ever since his winter wonderland idea got shot down, straightened up slightly, interest piqued. “so… like those fancy, mysterious balls in movies?”

“exactly,” beomgyu confirmed, voice brimming with satisfaction. “dim lighting, chandeliers, intricate masks—people get to dress up and pretend to be someone else for a night.” he wagged his brows. “cool, isn’t it?”

taehyun ignored his theatrics, already scribbling down notes. “formal but not boring. atmospheric without being overly complicated. it works.”

you tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to deliberate. “hmm. it does sound good, but i don’t know, gyu. the fact that it came from you makes me a little skeptical.”

beomgyu gasped, feigning betrayal as he placed a hand over his heart. “come on, don’t you have faith in me?.”

you smirked, tilting your head. “oh, i have faith in you. just not in your taste.” “says the girl who still thinks vanilla ice cream is the superior flavor,” beomgyu shot back, eyes gleaming.

your jaw dropped. “what does that have to do with anything?”

taehyun, barely glancing up from his notes, murmured, “she’s right, though. it’s a classic.”

beomgyu let out an exasperated groan, throwing his hands up. “oh, so she gets a pass for being boring, but i make one suggestion and suddenly—”

“masquerade it is,” taehyun interrupted smoothly, tapping his pen against the page for emphasis. “it’s decided.”

beomgyu sat up a little straighter, his usual playful arrogance giving way to something softer—something closer to pride. he actually contributed something worthwhile, and he knew it.

you glanced around the table, noting the shift in energy. what started as a frustrating mess of half-baked ideas had finally settled into something concrete. something promising.

as the meeting neared its end, the room gradually emptied, leaving behind the quiet remnants of rustling papers and the faint echo of footsteps against the tiled floor. beomgyu was the first to sling his bag over his shoulder, stretching his arms high above his head with a satisfied groan. he looked far too pleased with himself, as if he had just single-handedly saved the winter formal instead of throwing out the most ridiculous suggestions until he accidentally landed on the perfect one.

“alright, my job here is done,” he announced, adjusting his strap before flashing a lopsided grin at you and taehyun. “don’t stay too late, lovebirds.”

“we are not—” you started, only for beomgyu to duck out the door before you could finish.

you let out a frustrated huff, but before you could dwell on it, jiwon stepped forward, his movements unhurried as he gathered his things. he lingered near taehyun’s side, adjusting the strap of his bag with an easygoing air, as if trying to find the right words.

“hey,” he started, offering a small, casual smile, “if you ever need help with anything, you can call me. you know, student council teamwork and all.”

taehyun, ever the picture of polite indifference, barely spared him a glance. “sure, noted.”

jiwon hesitated, clearly expecting something more—maybe a nod of acknowledgment, maybe even a small thanks—but when taehyun remained as detached as ever, he let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if to brush it off. “right. see you guys later, then. goodluck!”

and then, it was just you and taehyun.

the door clicked shut behind him, sealing your fate.

you exhaled, resting your elbows against the table before letting your forehead drop against the cool surface. “this is cruel and unusual punishment.”

taehyun barely looked up from his notes. “it’s called responsibility.”

you groaned. “i have plenty of responsibilities, thank you very much. this just happens to be the one i want to run from the most.”

“too bad.”

taehyun’s tone was frustratingly even, the very definition of someone who had already accepted his fate. you peeked up at him through your arms, watching as he methodically sorted through the remaining paperwork, his expression unreadable. it was strange. you were used to him being sharp, snarky, always finding ways to make your life harder rather than easier. but right now?

right now, he was just… doing the work. without complaint. without prodding.

you slowly sat up, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“okay, what’s your deal?”

taehyun finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “what?”

“you.” you gestured vaguely at him, then at the neatly arranged papers in front of him. “you’re being helpful. like, actually helpful. it’s weird.”

his lips curled slightly, though the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i told you i’d help, didn’t i?”

“yeah, but not like.. this..” 

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head before flipping through one of the documents. “you seriously underestimate me.”

“i seriously don’t.” you crossed your arms. “which is why i’m suspicious.”

taehyun sighed, tapping his pen against the table. “if it makes you feel better, i’ll handle the layout and catering logistics. you can start drafting the seating arrangements.”

you stared at him.

he stares back.

“…you already planned half of this, didn’t you?”

his silence was answer enough.

you blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sheer efficiency of it all. then, something flickered in his expression—something almost unreadable, something sincere—and suddenly, you didn’t know where to look.

“i told you,” taehyun murmured, his voice quieter now, as if he didn’t want to break whatever fragile moment had settled between you, “i’ll help.” you huffed out a breath, pushing aside the odd weight pressing at the edges of your mind, and refocused on the papers spread before you. whatever strange moment had just passed between you and taehyun—whatever flicker of something that had settled in the quiet between you—it didn’t matter. you had work to do.

the room sank into a silence that, against all odds, felt… natural. not suffocating, not strained, not heavy with the usual tension that came with being near taehyun for too long. it was a stark contrast to the earlier chaos of the meeting, the air now humming with something softer—less sharp edges, less sharp words.

it was almost unsettling how easily you both worked like this.

every now and then, one of you would break the silence.

“do we need to confirm the dj by the end of the week?”

“yeah, and the photographer too.”

or—

“should we let people vote for their own ball court, or do you think it’ll just turn into a popularity contest?”

“kang, every ball court is a popularity contest.”

for once, there were no playful jabs, no attempts to rile each other up—just efficiency. a rare, mutual understanding.

and yet, the hours dragged.

outside, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting the room in streaks of orange and pink, elongating shadows across the table. the once-bright fluorescent lights above now felt too harsh, highlighting the exhaustion that had begun creeping into your bones. the weight of the day settled over you in increments—shoulders aching, head growing heavier, eyelids drooping ever so slightly.

then, as you were scanning through a list of venue restrictions, a yawn tore its way out of you before you could stop it.

taehyun’s head lifted at once. “tired?”

you blinked at him, rubbing your eyes as inconspicuously as possible. “no.”

his gaze flickered towardss you, sharp yet unreadable. “you should just go home. i can finish the rest.”

you scoffed, dropping your hand from your face. “what, and let you mess everything up? not on my watch.”

his brows raised slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “mess everything up? bold words, considering i’ve been handling student council work longer than you have.”

“exactly,” you countered, deadpan. “which means i know what you’re capable of, and frankly, it’s concerning.”

taehyun exhaled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “you really don’t trust me with this, huh?”

“would you trust you?”

his lips curled, eyes glinting with amusement. “i trust myself way more than i trust you.”

you let out an exaggerated gasp. “excuse me?”

“you heard me.”

“taehyun, i carry the weight of this council on my back, and you know it.”

he let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “right, because your world would fall apart if you admitted i actually help out around here.”

you narrowed your eyes, pointing a pen at him. “if you actually helped, i wouldn’t be here right now.”

“or maybe,” he mused, tilting his head, “you just like spending time with me.”

you nearly choked.

“as if,” you spluttered, eyes widening.

taehyun smirked, seemingly satisfied with your reaction. “so dramatic.”

you let out an exasperated groan, dragging a hand down your face. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, you’re still here.”

“because i have to be,” you shot back.

he hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “alright, then. let me—”

without thinking, your hand shot out, curling firmly around his wrist.

your breath caught in your throat, the moment stretching impossibly thin, charged with something you couldn’t name. your fingers were wrapped around the bare skin of taehyun’s wrist, his pulse thrumming steadily beneath your touch—warm, solid, real.

taehyun stilled.

for once, he looked just as caught off guard as you felt, his gaze flickering downward, lips parting slightly. you could see the exact moment realization dawned on him, something shifting in his expression, his breath coming just a fraction sharper.

but neither of you moved.

the air between you thickened, something unspoken curling into the space left behind by your bickering. your heart pounded against your ribs, so loud, you were convinced he could hear it. your palm burned against his skin, a sensation you weren’t sure was entirely physical.

you ripped your hand away, as if you had been scorched.

taehyun blinked at you, his expression unreadable, caught between something unreadable and something almost… curious. then, his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk forming, though this one was softer—less teasing, more thoughtful.

“okay, okay,” he said, voice quieter now, almost teasing but not quite. “i’ll let you finish your own work.” you barely heard taehyun’s voice. barely registered the joyful lilt of his words or the soft chuckle that followed.

because something felt wrong.

not wrong in the way that set off alarms in your head—not danger, not fear—but something different. something foreign pressing against the edges of your awareness, unfamiliar yet impossibly warm. your wrist tingled, the sensation starting as a faint whisper beneath your skin before deepening into something more insistent, something that crawled up your arm like a quiet, lingering heat. it wasn’t painful, but it burned in a way that made your breath catch, a way that made your fingers curl against the table as if grounding yourself would somehow steady the sudden unease settling in your chest. your brows furrowed as the warmth pulsed again, slow and steady, like a heartbeat against your palm. for a second, you tried to ignore it, forcing your focus back onto the scattered documents before you. but the feeling refused to fade, refused to be dismissed as something inconsequential. it lingered, curling beneath your skin, insistent, waiting. a strange, quiet whisper of a sensation that made something stir uneasily in your chest.

your fingers twitched.

the urge to check clawed at you.

hesitantly, almost cautiously, you turned your palm over. your breath felt uneven, the steady rhythm of your chest rising and falling suddenly harder to control. your fingers flexed once, twice, before finally, with a sharp inhale, you reached for the sleeve of your jacket.

you hesitated.

just for a second.

then, slowly, you peeled the fabric back—

and you felt your breath hitch.

there, resting in the curve of your palm, was a single blue hydrangea.

it was small, delicate, impossibly soft-looking, its petals shimmering faintly with an ethereal glow. the light was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there, a quiet pulse of something that shouldn’t be real. your eyes widen, your chest tightening, the air around you suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy, as if the weight of the moment itself was pressing down on you, demanding to be acknowledged. your fingers twitched again, hesitant, unsure, before finally moving—just barely grazing the petals. they were cool beneath your fingertips, soft as silk, fragile in a way that made your stomach twist. and yet, the moment you made contact, a warmth surged through you—different from before, deeper, curling through your chest, spreading outward in gentle waves, like ripples disturbing still water.

panic clawed at your ribs.

this wasn’t real.

it couldn’t be real.

cautiously, carefully, you lifted your gaze—

taehyun wasn’t even looking at you.

he was still focused on his own work, completely unaware of the storm unraveling within you. his expression remained neutral, his hands moving with practiced ease as he gathered the last of the documents, his posture relaxed as if nothing had happened. he hadn’t noticed the way you had frozen. he hadn’t heard the sharp breath that had caught in your throat. he hadn’t felt what you had felt.

you sat there, staring, mind spinning in frantic circles, barely registering the movement of his hands, the faint sound of paper rustling as he organized everything into neat stacks. he was still working. he had moved on.

your fingers tightened around your sleeve, pressing the fabric into your palm, concealing the impossible proof still resting there.

taehyun had no idea.

he hadn’t seen it.

but you had. suddenly, the way taehyun had been looking at you earlier—the way his voice had softened when he told you he’d help, the way his fingers had tapped against the table absentmindedly, as if waiting for something—felt different.

suddenly, the small, glowing flower sitting against your skin felt heavier than anything you had ever held.

your stomach twisted, fingers still curled tightly around your sleeve as you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, to act as if your world hadn’t just been turned upside down.

but deep down, you already knew.

taehyun was your soulmate.

the chair scraped against the floor as you pushed back suddenly, the legs dragging loud and jarring against the quiet that had settled between you and taehyun. the movement was too sharp, too abrupt, and when you stood, a wave of dizziness hit you like a punch to the chest. taehyun’s head snapped up at the sudden movement, brows knitting together in something close to confusion. “where are you going?” his voice was steady, but there was a slight edge to it—one that might’ve gone unnoticed if your heart wasn’t already hammering in your chest. “i thought you wanted to stay?”

you swallowed, trying to mask the way your breath felt uneven, the way something inside you trembled like a frayed wire sparking against itself. “i—” your throat felt dry. you shook your head, barely able to string together a convincing excuse. “i-i just remembered i have something to do.”

taehyun’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sharp and assessing as he leaned back in his chair. “really?”

you exhaled sharply, trying to pull yourself together, trying to keep your feet moving before you did something foolish. “yes, really,” you bit out, words a little too rushed, too forced. you took a step back, then another. “i should go.”

“now?” taehyun’s voice carried a note of incredulity, as if he was trying to make sense of the contradiction. just minutes ago, you had argued tooth and nail about staying, yet now, here you were, bolting for the door like something was chasing you.

you nodded once, stiffly, pressing your lips together. “yes. now.”

before he could say anything else, before the weight of his gaze could pin you down, you spun on your heel and hurried for the door. your heart thundered violently against your ribs, your pulse roaring in your ears, but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

the cool evening air hit you like a shock to the system when you finally stepped outside, your lungs burning with the weight of everything you had just run from. but even then, even with the distance now stretching between you and taehyun, your fingers curled instinctively tighter around your sleeve, as if the mere act of holding it close could somehow make the truth disappear.

but it didn’t.

because pressed against your palm, glowing softly beneath the fabric, the tiny blue hydrangea still remained. ꒰💐꒱ you couldn't sleep.

you lay on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, but the silence in your room was anything but peaceful. it was suffocating—thick and pressing, curling around your ribs like invisible vines, making it impossible to breathe. every time you closed your eyes, you saw it. that flower. delicate and impossibly vibrant, glowing softly against your palm as if mocking you. and with it came the realization you still weren’t ready to accept, the one that had rattled you so deeply you could barely think straight.

kang taehyun was your soulmate.

your stomach twisted, a cold weight settling deep in your gut. it didn’t make sense. it couldn’t make sense. the universe, fate—whatever cruel force had determined this—must have made a mistake. had to have made a mistake. because out of all the people in the world, why him? why the one person you could barely stand, the one person who got under your skin like no one else could?

a frustrated breath tore from your lips as you sat up abruptly, shoving your blanket off. you couldn’t just sit here, drowning in the sheer absurdity of it all. your fingers reached for your phone, unlocking it in one swift motion before you began typing furiously into the search bar, your heart hammering so loudly it nearly drowned out the quiet hum of the device.

how to break a soulmate bond?

your thumb hovered over the screen as you hesitated, an uneasy feeling creeping into your chest.

then you pressed enter.

your eyes scanned the results, fingers scrolling hastily, only for a sharp sting of disappointment to hit you when the answers all read the same:

soulmates are predetermined from birth.a soulmate bond cannot be unbound.a soulmate connection is permanent.

your grip on your phone tightened.

you tried again.

can you reject your soulmate?can a soulmate connection fade?is there a way to erase a soulmate bond?

but again, every response remained cruelly, infuriatingly unchanged. your chest constricted, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration built like a storm inside you. you hated this. hated the idea that some unseen force had decided your fate without your consent, tying you to taehyun in a way you couldn’t even begin to understand.

your pulse pounded in your ears, but you forced yourself to keep reading, scanning through endless articles, forums, old folklore—anything that might give you a loophole.

and then, finally, you found something.

your eyes locked onto a passage buried within a lengthy explanation on soulmate manifestations. the words swam before you, but you forced yourself to focus, breath catching as you reread the key line over and over again.

"the flower will continue to appear until the bond is acknowledged and reciprocated."

you swallowed hard, gripping your phone tighter.

"only through mutual recognition—through intertwined touch—can the cycle be broken."

a shiver crawled up your spine, slow and deliberate, like a creeping realization settling deep into your bones. the weight of it pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe, harder to think past the overwhelming truth that had been forced upon you. your stomach twisted at the thought. as long as he didn’t know—as long as you never let your hands fully intertwine—he wouldn’t find out. the flower would keep returning, yes, but it wasn’t permanent. it wasn’t an unshakable mark of fate binding the two of you together in an irreversible way.

your breath caught as you hesitated, then slowly peeled back your sleeve, heart hammering wildly against your ribs. but when your gaze flickered down—

nothing.

the flower was gone. a sharp exhale left you, a rush of relief so sudden it nearly made you laugh. it wasn’t a mark you were doomed to wear forever. it could be hidden, erased, kept entirely to yourself. your fingers curled into a fist, as if trying to physically trap the secret away, to hold it tight before it could slip through the cracks and ruin everything.

taehyun didn’t have to know.

you could keep this to yourself. you could pretend it never happened. as long as you avoided direct contact, as long as you stayed careful, the truth would remain buried. and taehyun—your soulmate—would never have to find out.

the thought should have been comforting, should have eased the sick feeling that had settled in your stomach. but it didn’t. because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, push it down, pretend it wasn’t real—

the fact remained.

the universe had chosen taehyun for you.

and worse—

it had chosen you for him.

you exhaled slowly, pressing your palms over your eyes as if the darkness behind your lids could somehow erase the thoughts running rampant in your mind. it was useless—no matter how much you tried to push it away, the truth remained, lodged deep beneath your skin like a splinter that refused to be ignored.

still, you had to at least try.

dragging in a breath, you shifted onto your side, curling beneath the covers in a last-ditch effort to find rest, even if only for a few fleeting hours. the room was silent, save for the faint ticking of the clock on your desk, a reminder of just how little time you had left before the world would start moving again. you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest, on the softness of the sheets beneath your fingertips. if you could just empty your mind, even just for a moment.

but sleep never truly came.

instead, you drifted in and out of a restless haze, thoughts tangling and unraveling like threads in your mind. each time you closed your eyes, you swore you could still feel the lingering warmth against your palm, the faint ghost of a touch that had changed everything. and before you knew it, the sun had already risen.

a sliver of golden light filtered through your curtains, painting soft, dappled shapes across your walls. you barely had time to register the shift before your alarm blared to life, the sharp, grating sound pulling you straight back into reality.

with a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling as exhaustion settled deep in your bones. the weight in your chest hadn't lessened overnight—if anything, it had only grown heavier, sinking deeper now that you had to face what came next.

school. preparing for the winter ball. more responsibilities.

and worse than that, taehyun.

your jaw tightened at the thought. there was no avoiding him. no ignoring his presence, no pretending he didn’t exist when he was the student council president, when you had to work with him to organize the ball, when he was everywhere. when, no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't just erase him from your world.

but today, you had no choice but to pretend.

pretend like nothing had changed. pretend like you weren’t walking into the same room as the person you were now inexplicably tied to. pretend like he wasn’t your soulmate.with one last deep breath, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, steeling yourself for the day ahead.

as you got ready, the soft rustle of fabric filled the quiet of your room as you slipped into your jacket, fingers instinctively pulling the sleeves down past your wrists. you had always worn one out of habit, for comfort more than anything else, but today—it served a different purpose.

today, it was a barrier.

a thin layer of protection between you and the one person who could never know the truth.

your hands lingered for a moment, curling around the edges of your sleeves as if gripping them tighter would somehow ease the weight pressing against your chest. it didn’t. but still, you exhaled slowly, steeling yourself, before finally grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

as you got off the bus, the walk to school felt longer than usual. every step was heavy, your mind still tangled in the sleepless hours of the night before. the closer you got, the more you could feel it—that slow, creeping sense of unease settling in your bones, tightening its hold with each passing second.

but you kept your head low.

you had no interest in conversation. no interest in being perceived. the last thing you needed was someone taking notice of the way your mind was still reeling, the way your body was thrumming with something unsettled, something wrong.

“you in a hurry or something?”

your breath caught.

a voice. familiar. casual. far too easy going for how completely, utterly not easy this situation was. you didn’t have to look to know who it was. your fingers curled tighter around the strap of your bag, your knuckles turning faintly white from the force of your grip. as if holding on to something tangible could tether you, could anchor you to a reality that suddenly felt unbearably fragile.

his voice was light, threaded with that signature confidence that made your stomach curl uncomfortably.

"you practically ran out of the council room yesterday," taehyun mused, the curiosity in his voice so casual, so innocent, that it almost sounded like he wasn’t completely prying. but you knew better. taehyun never asked without reason. "thought you were so insistent on staying late and finishing up the work. kind of weird that you suddenly changed your mind."

your pulse stuttered.

so he noticed.

of course he did.

you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, to fight against the tension creeping into your shoulders, the way your skin still buzzed with the weight of yesterday’s discovery.

"i changed my mind," you muttered, your voice clipped, carefully detached. "had more important things to do."

a hum. slow. drawn out. deliberate.

"oh?" taehyun says, his voice dipping ever so slightly, laced with a knowing lilt that sent an uncomfortable prickle down your spine. "that doesn’t sound like you. you never leave work unfinished, no matter how late it gets. if anything, you’d rather scold me for trying to leave early. i think that’s why it’s kind of… suspicious."

your fingers twitched. he was digging. picking at the cracks in your carefully composed exterior, sifting through the spaces where your walls weren’t quite thick enough. and you could feel it—the weight of his gaze as he examined you, silently cataloging every tiny inconsistency, every hesitation, every shift in your posture.

your stomach twisted.

he couldn’t know.

"look, i don’t know what you’re talking about," you said, feigning indifference, eyes fixed ahead. "i went home. did what i needed to do. end of story."

a silence stretched between you, thin yet impossibly dense.

"you’re a terrible liar."

the words were soft. simple. but they landed like a blow, striking something deep within you.

"seriously, what’s up with you?" taehyun continued, voice quieter now, softer around the edges, but no less insistent. his eyes were sharp, searching, tracing over your profile like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he wasn’t meant to solve. "you’ve been acting weird since yesterday. not just weird—weird in a way that actually bothers me. and that’s saying something."

your breath hitched before you could stop it, and for just a fraction of a second, your steps faltered.

it was slight—barely noticeable, barely anything—but taehyun caught it.

his gaze sharpened, quiet and unrelenting, brushing over the rigid line of your shoulders, the tightness in your grip, the way your breath had become just a little too controlled.

"seriously," he pressed again, more deliberate this time. "what’s going on with you? you don’t usually avoid eye contact like this. or, you know, sprint out of rooms like you just saw a ghost." he was watching you. waiting. reading between the spaces of your words, searching for something—an answer, a tell, the truth.

and it was too much.

too much when your thoughts were still tangled in the ghost of a blue hydrangea, too much when the memory of it felt like a brand against your skin, too much when your own chest felt like it was caving under the weight of what you could not let him know.

"i told you, it’s nothing!"

the word came out too fast, too sharp, too frayed at the edges, spilling into the space between you like a crack in fragile glass.

"nothing’s wrong, okay?" you snapped, exasperation bleeding into every syllable as you finally turned to glare at him. "i don’t know why you’re so fixated on this, but if i say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing!"

taehyun’s steps slowed, just barely, but enough for you to feel it.

then, after a beat, his lips curled.

"there’s my girl."

the words were light, teasing, but something about the way he said them—low, warm, unbearably fond—made your breath catch in your throat.

your stomach flipped.

heat crept up your neck, curling at the edges of your resolve, licking at the barriers you had so carefully built.

"don’t call me that," you snapped, voice edged with irritation, but the way your chest tightened betrayed you. taehyun only grinned wider, unfazed. "why not?” you let out a scoff, shoving past him with a force that felt more like fleeing than anything else, quickening your pace towardss the school entrance, desperate to put space between you, to shake off the warmth he left behind.

taehyun only chuckled, the sound rich with amusement, smooth and unbothered, trailing after you like a shadow you couldn’t escape.

as you and taehyun made your way towardss the principal’s office, you could still feel the weight of his earlier words clinging to your skin, but you forced yourself to push it aside, straightening your posture and steeling your expression as the two of you stepped into the office.

the principal greeted you both with a bright, approving smile, clearly pleased that the student council had taken the initiative to organize such an elaborate event. as you and taehyun pitched the ideas you had gathered from the meeting—the masquerade ball, the theme, the various activities planned—their expression only grew more delighted, nodding along enthusiastically.

"this all sounds wonderful!" he beamed, already reaching for the budget reports. "i'll grant you the funds you requested, and since this will require a lot of preparation, i'll allow you both to skip certain classes leading up to the event. just make sure to check in with your teachers and stay on top of your work."

you forced a polite smile, nodding in agreement, though internally, you grimaced at the thought of spending even more time with taehyun outside of your usual council duties. meanwhile, beside you, taehyun merely gave an easy, knowing grin, as if he could already sense your reluctance.

with the necessary approvals in hand, the two of you left the office and quickly made your way to find beomgyu and jiwon, easily spotting them in the hallway between classes. after explaining the situation, excusing them from their schedules, and going over the event details, the four of you gathered in the council room once again to divide the responsibilities.

"beomgyu, jiwon, you’ll be in charge of designing and putting up the promotional posters," taehyun started, his voice smooth and sure, as if he had already planned out the entire structure of the event in his head. "you’ll also be handling the setup for the photobooth and confirming everything with the dj and photographer."

beomgyu perked up at that, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he nodded. "oh, i have ideas already. don’t worry, the posters are gonna be a masterpiece." “so do i!” jiwon chimed in, nodding with a soft smile.

"good," taehyun said before turning to you. his gaze was steady, too steady, and you already had a bad feeling about what was coming. "that leaves us to handle the venue arrangements, the catering, and organizing the seating plans."

your stomach dropped.

"wait, what?" you blurted, brows knitting together. "why do i have to be paired with you? can't i switch?"

taehyun barely looked fazed, tilting his head in amusement. "because you’re the vice president, and i’m the president. it makes sense that we handle the major logistics together."

"but—"

"besides," he cut you off smoothly, a teasing lilt creeping into his voice, "you wouldn't want to leave all the important decision-making to me, would you? i might pick the absolute worst venue just to spite you."

you opened your mouth to protest, only to close it again when you realized he had you cornered. he knew you couldn’t let him handle this alone—not because you trusted his judgment, but because you absolutely didn’t.

your fingers clenched around the edge of the table before you finally let out a sharp exhale, shoulders dropping in reluctant defeat. "fine," you muttered, crossing your arms. "but if you make this unbearable for me, i swear—"

"i wouldn’t dream of it," taehyun interjected smoothly, lips quirking up in that ever-infuriating smirk of his.

beomgyu, watching the exchange, let out a low whistle, shooting you a look that was half amused, half pitying. "good luck," he mused, already turning towardss jiwon to start discussing the poster designs.

as much as you wanted to drag your feet and stall for time, taehyun was already leading the way towardss the computer lab, walking with that effortless confidence that somehow always managed to get under your skin. you followed begrudgingly, arms still crossed over your chest, every step weighed down by the unfortunate reality that you were stuck with him for this part of the planning.

the computer lab was mostly empty when you entered, save for a few students hunched over their screens, quietly typing away. the hum of the machines filled the air, the glow of the monitors casting a cool, sterile light over the room. taehyun wasted no time claiming a spot near the corner, settling into one of the chairs and gesturing for you to take the seat beside him.

reluctantly, you did.

"all right," he murmured, fingers already flying across the keyboard as he pulled up a search tab. "we need a venue that’s available in less than two weeks, big enough for the whole student body, and actually within our budget."

you scoffed, leaning back against your chair with an unimpressed look. "wow, really? i had no idea. it's not like i wasn’t at the meeting where we came up with this idea or anything."

taehyun barely spared you a glance, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch. "just making sure we’re on the same page," he said smoothly, scrolling through a list of banquet halls. "i know how slow you can be sometimes."

your head snapped towardss him, eyes narrowing. "excuse me?"

he hummed, feigning deep concentration as he clicked through different options. "i mean, it took you ages to realize you liked working with me. maybe this will take just as long." "i do not like working with you," you shot back, voice low and sharp.

"mhm," he hummed, tilting his head. "whatever helps you sleep at night."

your fingers curled into fists as you resisted the urge to reach over and shove him off his chair. instead, you let out a long, slow exhale, rolling your shoulders before refocusing on the task at hand. arguing with him was getting you nowhere, and you refused to give him the satisfaction of throwing you off track.

"just focus," you muttered, pulling up a different search window. "we need to find a venue, not waste time on whatever nonsense is coming out of your mouth."

"you wound me," taehyun sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "but fine, i’ll behave. for now."

you didn’t believe that for a second.

the next minutes were spent in a tense yet oddly efficient silence, both of you scanning through listings, occasionally typing out emails or jotting down notes. but of course, peace was never meant to last when taehyun was involved.

"how about this one?" he asked suddenly, turning his screen towardss you. "it’s big, has great lighting, and look—it even comes with a dance floor."

you barely glanced at it before shaking your head. "too expensive."

"oh, so now you're frugal?" he teased, clicking his tongue. "you didn't seem to care when we were talking about decorations."

"because decorations actually matter," you retorted. "unlike whatever overpriced ballroom you're looking at right now."

"overpriced?" taehyun leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "you have no taste." "and you have no concept of budgeting," you shot back, matching his posture with a challenging stare.

he grinned. "fine. your turn. pick a place."

you turned back to your screen, scanning through the options until you found one that seemed promising—spacious, reasonably priced, and still available within your tight timeframe. with a victorious smirk, you turned your laptop towardss him. "this one."

taehyun hummed, skimming over the details. then, to your immense irritation, he shrugged. "eh. it's decent."

"decent?" you repeated, your eye twitching. "it's perfect."

"i don't know," he mused, dragging out the words. "it’s a little plain, don’t you think?"

"you're plain," you grumbled under your breath.

taehyun chuckled, shaking his head as he clicked on the venue’s contact page. "all right, i’ll admit—it’s not bad. let’s call and see if it’s available."

"thank you," you huffed, leaning back in your chair.

taehyun shot you a look, his smirk still annoyingly present. "see? wasn’t that fun?"

"you’re insufferable."

"oh, please," he said, spinning slightly in his chair, "we both know that’s not true."

you exhaled sharply, closing your eyes for a brief moment to collect what little patience you had left. taehyun wasted no time pulling out his phone, fingers tapping swiftly as he dialed the number listed on the venue’s website. you followed suit, opening your email and drafting a message to another potential location, your heart already sinking at the thought of waiting for replies.

"come on, pick up," taehyun muttered under his breath, tapping his fingers against the desk impatiently as the call rang. his expression remained neutral, but you could tell from the slight furrow of his brows that he wasn’t the biggest fan of uncertainty either.

you pressed send on your email, leaning back with a sigh. "i hate this part," you admitted, watching as the message disappeared into the abyss of cyberspace. "just sitting around, waiting, hoping someone actually gets back to us soon."

"patience, grasshopper," taehyun mused, shooting you a teasing glance before straightening when someone finally answered his call. "yes, hi," he said smoothly, his tone shifting into something professional yet casual. "i was wondering if your venue is available for a school event in—"

he suddenly went quiet. you watched as his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression darkening slightly.

"... oh," he said after a pause, voice flat. "i see. no, that’s fine. thanks anyway."

you already knew what had happened before he even ended the call. "booked?"

"booked," taehyun confirmed with a sigh, tossing his phone onto the desk. "for the next three months."

"great," you muttered, rubbing your temples. "just our luck."

"don't be so dramatic," taehyun teased, picking up his phone again. "we still have options. just gotta keep trying."

"yeah, yeah," you sighed, refreshing your inbox just in case. nothing yet. not that you expected an immediate response, but it didn't stop the impatience from creeping in. your fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard, the soft clicks filling the quiet space between you and taehyun as you sent out the last of your inquiries. with a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples before glancing at him. "i'll start looking for catering too," you said, already pulling up a new tab. "no point in wasting time while we wait."

taehyun glanced up from his phone, his lips curling into an approving smile. "look at you," he mused, amusement laced in his tone. "so efficient. what would we do without you?"

you rolled your eyes. "fail, probably."

he chuckled, tilting his head as if considering it. "you might be right." then, before you could react, his hand lifted slightly, fingers reaching towardss your head, the familiar motion making it painfully clear what he was about to do.

your body reacts before your mind fully processed it. panic surged through you, a sharp, instinctual jolt of alarm shooting down your spine as you immediately ducked out of his reach. your chair scraped against the floor as you leaned away, eyes widening slightly before narrowing into a glare. "don’t," you snapped, voice sharp with warning.

taehyun blinked at you, startled for all of a second before a slow, knowing grin stretched across his face. "wow," he laughed, clearly entertained by your reaction. "didn't realize you hated me that much."

you scowled, heat prickling at the back of your neck. "i just don’t like being touched."

"uh-huh," he drawled, unconvinced, but he let it go, instead leaning back in his chair with a smirk that made you want to throw your laptop at him. "whatever you say."

you huffed, turning back to your screen with more force than necessary. ignoring the way your heartbeat was still uneven, you focused on scrolling through catering options, clicking on the ones that looked promising. taehyun, meanwhile, resumed his calls, his voice switching between polite and slightly frustrated as he dealt with yet another rejection.

"seriously?" he muttered under his breath after hanging up. "do people just book venues for fun? why is everything taken?" you barely spared him a glance, typing out another inquiry. "maybe the universe just enjoys watching you suffer."

taehyun exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking his head as he dialed another number. "if that's the case, then it really needs to get a new hobby." your lips parted slightly as a soft chuckle slipped out before you even realized it, the sound light and fleeting amidst the quiet hum of the computer lab. you didn’t dwell on it, simply shaking your head before shifting your focus back to your screen, fingers gliding over the keyboard as you continued to scroll through catering services, listing them down one by one in a growing document. beside you, taehyun remained engrossed in his own task, his voice occasionally dipping in and out of conversation as he made yet another call.

and so, the afternoon passed in a steady rhythm—clicks of the keyboard, the quiet murmur of emails being typed, the occasional sigh of frustration whenever another rejection came through. time blurred into an endless cycle of inquiries and planning, every second dedicated to ensuring the ball would come together despite the ridiculous time constraint.

but eventually, exhaustion began to creep in, a slow and subtle weight pressing against you. the lack of sleep from the night before clawed at your consciousness, your eyelids growing heavier with every passing moment. at first, you tried to fight it, blinking rapidly and straightening your posture, but it was no use. the lull of soft ambient noise, the gentle warmth of the room, the repetitive motions all pooled together into something dangerously lulling, and before you knew it, your head dipped slightly, your body leaning into the comfortable haze of rest.

meanwhile, taehyun was still fully engaged in his work, the tip of his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he skimmed through his emails. his patience was wearing thin after what felt like the hundredth rejection, but then, his screen lit up with a notification, a new message appearing in his inbox. when he opened it, his eyes widened slightly.

"finally," he breathed, his tone shifting from weary to triumphant in an instant. then, louder, "we got one! a venue just confirmed they’re available!" but no response came.

taehyun furrowed his brows, turning his head slightly. "hey, are you—"

he stopped mid-sentence.

his gaze landed on you, and for the first time that day, he fell completely silent.

your body was relaxed, posture softened in a way he’d never seen before. your breathing was slow, steady, your lashes resting lightly against your cheeks as you remained completely still. the exhaustion you had been so clearly fighting had finally won, lulling you into an unguarded moment of peace.

taehyun’s lips parted slightly as he took in the sight before him, the sharp edges of his usual teasing demeanor smoothing out into something gentler.

his eyes traced the curve of your cheek, the way a few stray strands of hair had fallen into your face, shifting slightly with each slow exhale. for a fleeting second, his fingers twitched, the urge to reach out and tuck them away bubbling up inside him.

but he hesitated.

he knew you wouldn’t like that. instead, taehyun simply sighed, a quiet, barely-there smile tugging at the corners of his lips. shaking his head to himself, he leaned back in his chair, voice a hushed murmur as he muttered,

"maybe another time." ꒰💐꒱ the world around you was slow to come into focus. a quiet groan slipped past your lips as you sat up, stretching your arms over your head, your body protesting the hours spent slumped over in an awkward position. your fingers moved to rub the sleep from your eyes, the lingering haze of exhaustion still clinging to you like a thick fog. for a moment, everything was a blur—the dim hum of computer screens, the distant echoes of muffled footsteps from outside, the faint glow of the overhead lights. but as your mind caught up with your surroundings, realization settled over you like a sudden jolt.

you were still in the computer lab.

blinking away the remnants of sleep, your gaze drifted over the space, taking in the faint glow of the monitors, the scattered notes, and the quiet that had settled into the room like a thick, undisturbed blanket. it was late. way too late.

but then, as your eyes continued to wander, they landed on something—or rather, someone. just beside you, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, arms loosely crossed over his chest, was taehyun. asleep.

you stilled.

for a long moment, you simply stared, your breath caught somewhere between surprise and something far too unnameable to grasp. taehyun was never this still, never this quiet. he was all sharp edges and smooth confidence, all witty remarks and knowing smirks. yet, in this moment, every single ounce of that usual energy had melted away.

your eyes traced the softened lines of his face, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks, casting delicate shadows against his skin. his lips, usually curved into something smug or teasing, were parted just slightly, his breathing even and unhurried. he looked… peaceful.

your fingers twitched slightly against your lap, as if unsure of what to do with themselves. you had never seen him like this before, had never had the chance to observe him without his usual air of unwavering self-assurance. your body moved before your mind could even begin to comprehend what you were about to do.

it was irrational. reckless, even. completely devoid of the careful distance you had sworn to maintain between the two of you. but despite every screaming thought urging you to stop, despite the warning bells ringing furiously in the back of your mind, your hand was already moving, trembling slightly as it hovered just above taehyun’s skin, caught in a delicate hesitation that lasted all but a second.

and then, before you could so much as blink, before common sense could come crashing down like a tidal wave and pull you away—

your fingertips brushed against his cheek.

warm.

taehyun was warm.

so impossibly warm that the contrast against the cool air of the computer lab sent a shiver down your spine. it wasn’t much—just the lightest touch, barely there, fleeting like a whisper of wind. so delicate it could have easily been mistaken for a trick of the mind.

but it wasn’t.

because the moment your skin made contact with his, an all-too-familiar heat unfurled across your wrist—burning, spreading, blooming like ink in water. your breath caught in your throat, your entire body stiffening as realization slammed into you with the force of a freight train.

oh.

oh no.

it was happening again.

the hydrangea—it was back. you didn’t even need to roll up your sleeve to check. you felt it, felt the warmth seeping into your skin like an irreversible brand, a cruel reminder of the connection you were desperately trying to ignore.

your heartbeat stuttered, then picked up pace, pounding against your ribs like it was attempting to escape. what have you done? what on earth had possessed you to—

a shift.

a breath.

a quiet inhale, followed by the faintest stir of movement.

taehyun was waking up.

your stomach twisted painfully, panic slamming into your chest with dizzying force as his body tensed slightly, as his lashes fluttered ever so faintly, as the slow pull of consciousness dragged him from sleep.

you ripped your hand away as if burned, shoving it into your lap, curling your fingers into the fabric of your skirt in a poor attempt to ground yourself. but the damage was already done. you had been too late.

taehyun’s eyes cracked open, hazy with sleep, dark irises unfocused as they attempted to adjust to the dim lighting. for a moment, he looked dazed, blinking sluggishly, his expression lost in the remnants of slumber. but then his gaze settled on you.

still sitting too close.

still stiff with the remnants of panic.

taehyun’s brows furrowed slightly, a quiet breath escaping his lips, his voice still heavy with drowsiness. “were you just—?”

“no.”

the word shot out of your mouth before he could even finish his sentence, abrupt and sharp, too quick, too defensive. you barely resisted the urge to flinch at how obvious it sounded, how guilty it made you seem.

taehyun blinked again, sluggish and confused, his gaze flickering between your face and the way you were suddenly clutching your hands together as if you were trying to physically restrain yourself. his gaze lingered for a second too long, sharp despite the remnants of sleep still clouding his features, and then, as if a switch had flipped, his lips stretched into that insufferable, knowing grin—the one that always meant trouble.

taehyun sat up straighter, stretching his arms out with a low hum before tilting his head towardss you, expression brimming with mischief. “so,” he drawled, eyes glinting, “are you gonna tell me what that was about, or should i start guessing?”

“nothing,” you muttered, a little too quickly, shifting in your seat, fingers curling tighter around the ends of your sleeves, your grip near suffocating as you tugged the fabric down as far as it would go.

taehyun leaned in slightly, feigning deep contemplation. “hm, you sure? because it really seemed like—”

“it wasn’t,” you snapped, gaze locked stubbornly on the desk, anywhere but at him, anywhere but those sharp eyes that always seemed to see far too much. “just thought you had dirt in your face.”

“you’re a terrible liar.”

“and you’re annoying.”

“a little defensive, don’t you think?”

your grip on your sleeves tightened further, fingers curling so desperately around the fabric that your knuckles turned white, nails pressing in with enough force that they nearly pierced through.

taehyun simply leaned back against his chair, smugness dripping from every inch of him as he studied you with lazy amusement. “what, did you get tired of glaring at me and decide watching me sleep was more entertaining?”

your patience, already worn dangerously thin, snapped. “i told you, it’s not what you think!” you groaned, pushing yourself up from your seat and shoving your things into your bag with far more force than necessary, each motion sharp and hurried—zipping up folders with a little too much vigor, stuffing loose papers inside with no care for whether they crumpled or not. taehyun’s grin only widened as he watched you all but stuff your things into your bag, each movement hurried and brimming with frustration. you could practically hear the amusement dripping from his voice as he tilted his head, unbothered by your growing irritation.

“you know,” he mused, stretching his arms out as if he had all the time in the world, “you’re acting really suspicious right now.”

you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “oh, please. if anyone’s suspicious, it’s you.”

“me?” he gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense, though the effect was ruined by the barely contained smirk tugging at his lips. “i just woke up, and now i’m being accused? unbelievable.”

“yeah, well, believe it,” you shot back, zipping up your bag with more force than necessary. “you’re always up to something.”

taehyun hummed, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you with lazy amusement. “you’re deflecting.”

“you’re projecting.”

he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “this is the worst attempt at changing the subject i’ve ever seen.”

your grip on your bag strap tightened. “maybe if you shut up, we wouldn’t need to change the subject at all.”

taehyun only smirked, his eyes glinting in that way that always made your stomach twist. “so, let me get this straight,” he says, tapping a finger against his chin as if deep in thought. “you’re telling me you really weren’t just staring at me while i was sleeping? because from where i’m standing, it really looked like you were admiring me.”

your entire body went rigid. “i was not—!”

“no need to be shy,” taehyun continued, his voice syrupy sweet, the kind of tone that dripped with amusement and a touch of self-satisfaction, tilting his head just slightly, leaning into your space like he was savoring every second of your frustration. “i get it. i mean, you don’t get to see me this peaceful that often. i must’ve looked pretty cute, huh?”

your jaw nearly dropped, lips parting in sheer disbelief at the audacity—the absolute gall—he had to say that with a straight face. “oh my god. shut up.”

taehyun gasped again, clutching his chest as if you had just personally wounded him, eyes wide with faux shock, though the mischief never left his face. “you were watching me, weren’t you? i knew it!”

your fingers curled around the strap of your bag, knuckles turning bone-white from how hard you were gripping it, the pressure grounding you against the unbearable mix of panic and irritation bubbling in your chest. “you know what?” you huffed, your voice sharp and clipped, already done with this conversation before it could escalate any further. “i don’t have to stand here and listen to this.”

without another word, you spun on your heel, movements stiff with frustration as you stormed towardss the door, each step fueled by the desperate need to escape before he could dig any deeper into your flustered state. but, of course, taehyun was already up, barely missing a beat before falling into step beside you, effortlessly matching your hurried pace with infuriating ease. his laughter trailed after you like an ever-present shadow, light and teasing, his amusement practically radiating off of him.

“hey, don’t run away now,” he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, the playfulness evident in every syllable as he shot you a look that only made your irritation spike further. “i have more questions!”

you groaned, pressing your lips together in a firm line, refusing to dignify him with a response as you quickened your steps—but taehyun was right there, undeterred, his grin only widening as if he thrived on seeing you squirm.

as if sensing the utter exasperation radiating off you in waves, taehyun finally—mercifully—let the teasing subside, falling into step beside you without another word. you kept to yourself, keeping your gaze ahead, shoulders still slightly tense from the lingering remnants of his antics.

every now and then, your fingers twitched at your side before subtly moving to check your wrist, barely lifting the fabric of your sleeve as you stole a glance at the skin beneath. you weren’t sure why you kept looking, but each time, your stomach twisted with a strange mix of nerves and anticipation.

eventually, on what must have been your fifth or sixth check, you finally let out a quiet sigh, relief washing over you at the sight of bare skin. the soft exhale wasn’t loud by any means, but taehyun, ever perceptive, immediately picked up on it.

“what’s got you so relieved?” he chirped, his voice breaking through the quiet with an almost childlike curiosity.

you tensed for half a second before quickly schooling your features back into indifference, rolling your eyes as if to dismiss his question entirely. “none of your business,” you muttered, keeping your voice even, though you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

but instead of prying, which was something he would normally do just to get a rise out of you, taehyun simply smiled. not the usual smirk, not the playful glint of mischief, but something softer, something almost… fond.

“okay,” he said easily, like he wasn’t the least bit offended by your refusal to answer. the two of you walked in silence after that, the rhythmic tapping of your footsteps against the pavement filling the space between you. the air was crisp, carrying with it the distant hum of the city, the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind passed through.

after a while, taehyun spoke again, this time without any trace of teasing in his tone. “by the way, the venue’s set,” he said, glancing at you briefly before turning his gaze back ahead. “we got the confirmation while you were asleep. the deal’s all settled.”

you hummed at that, not quite looking at him as you muttered, “that’s good.”

another beat of silence stretched between you before something nudged at the back of your mind, something that had been lingering there ever since you had woken up in the computer lab. furrowing your brows slightly, you turned to him, your voice laced with mild confusion as you asked, “why were you sleeping too, anyway? you could’ve just gone home.”

taehyun barely blinked, as if he had been expecting the question. his expression remained as casual as ever, hands tucked into his pockets as he shrugged. “well, i couldn’t just leave you sleeping there all alone,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “and i’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have liked it if i woke you up either, so…”

his voice trailed off, but the implication lingered between you. your steps faltered for just a fraction of a second, eyes flickering towardss him instinctively, but he wasn’t looking at you. instead, he just kept walking, his expression unreadable, as if what he had said wasn’t anything significant at all.

the silence lingered between you, stretching with each step as the station gradually came into view. the sky had dimmed to a deeper shade of blue, the distant hum of the city settling into its evening rhythm. streetlights flickered on one by one, casting pools of golden light onto the pavement, their glow catching in the strands of taehyun’s hair as he walked just a little ahead of you.

you weren’t sure why, but you found yourself slowing down, your feet moving with less urgency now that you were nearing your stop. it was strange; usually, by this point, you would’ve been itching to part ways, to shake off the exhausting push and pull that always came with being around taehyun. but tonight, the usual exasperation felt… muted. replaced by something quieter. something you couldn’t quite name. taehyun was the first to break the silence.

“well,” he said, stopping just before the steps leading down to the station. he turned to you then, hands still tucked into his pockets, his smile softer now, lacking its usual sharp edge. “guess this is where we part ways.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden finality of it. but before you could even think of something to say, he was already stepping back, tilting his head slightly as he regarded you with something unreadable in his expression.

“don’t stay up too late,” taehyun added, and though his tone remained casual, there was a quiet sincerity beneath it, woven into the way his gaze lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

your fingers curled around the strap of your bag, tightening for reasons you didn’t quite understand. “yeah,” you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “you too.”

taehyun exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as if amused by your halfhearted response. then, with one last glance, he turned, descending the steps with an ease that made it seem like this was nothing more than an ordinary parting.

but as you stood there, watching his figure disappear into the station, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. that, for the first time, you weren’t entirely relieved to see him go. ꒰💐꒱ the next few days blurred into a whirlwind of endless tasks, a relentless cycle of emails, phone calls, and meetings that left little room for anything else. mornings bled into afternoons, and afternoons stretched deep into the night, each one spent buried under an ever-growing to-do list. it felt as if the four of you were caught in the eye of a storm—one of your own making—drowning in preparations with barely a moment to come up for air.

the student council room had practically become your second home, its once neat and organized space now overrun with scattered papers, sample designs, and half-empty cups of coffee that none of you had the energy to clean up. rolls of fabric for table decorations sat in one corner, half-unfurled and abandoned, while poster drafts covered every available surface, some marked with hurried notes and others discarded altogether. the air was thick with the scent of paper and ink, the soft hum of printers and the occasional frustrated groan the only constants in the chaos.

beomgyu and jiwon were deep into their share of responsibilities, bouncing between designing promotional posters and confirming song choices with the dj. beomgyu, ever the perfectionist, went through what felt like a hundred drafts, grumbling under his breath every time jiwon pointed out a detail he had missed. their bickering became white noise at this point—background music to the madness—though, to be fair, it was nowhere near as bad as yours and taehyun’s.

because while the two argued over shades of blue and font choices, you and taehyun had the far more tedious task of finalizing the seating arrangements and catering. it meant making endless calls, negotiating over prices, and somehow fitting everything within the budget. it meant working side by side for hours on end, forced to cooperate despite how often you got on each other’s nerves. and somehow, even in the midst of all this exhaustion, taehyun still found the time to tease you—throwing in an unnecessary comment every chance he got just to watch your patience wear thinner and thinner.

"what would you do without me?" he mused one afternoon, stretching his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. "actually, don’t answer that. i already know—this whole event would be a disaster."

you didn’t even look up from your laptop. "i swear to god, kang, if you don’t shut up—"

"what?" taehyun grinned, feigning innocence. "you’d miss me."

your glare could’ve set something on fire.

but despite all of it—the chaos, the exhaustion, the relentless teasing—the ball was finally beginning to take shape. details were falling into place, confirmations were being made, and the days that once seemed endless were now hurtling towardss the event itself. there was still so much to do, but for the first time, it felt within reach. the halls of the campus were practically buzzing with anticipation, filled with the kind of excitement that only came around during events like this. everywhere you looked, people were either wrapped up in their own little worlds with their significant others or fluttering around in hopeful search of their soulmates, their eyes filled with that dreamy sort of longing. laughter echoed off the walls, whispered confessions were exchanged in corners, and the air itself seemed to hum with something light and intoxicating.

it was nauseating.

you rolled your eyes, a quiet scoff slipping past your lips as you adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder. the entire scene before you was so painfully cliché, it almost made your skin crawl. and yet, despite the irritation bristling at the back of your mind, there was something else beneath it—something quiet, something you didn’t want to name. a strange unease settled in the pit of your stomach, an odd sort of weight pressing against your chest.

but like always, you ignored it.

beside you, taehyun walked with easy strides, hands tucked into his pockets, the usual self-assured air about him. today, the two of you were heading out to check on the venue for the winter masquerade ball, making sure the decorations were all set and that everything was coming together smoothly. with only a few days left before the event, the pressure was starting to settle in, but for now, you were stuck navigating through the suffocating atmosphere of romance filling the campus.

taehyun, ever perceptive, caught the eye roll almost instantly.

"oh? what’s this?" his voice was dripping with amusement, and when you turned to look at him, he was already wearing that insufferably smug smirk. "jealous, aren’t we?"

your head snapped towardss him, shooting him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. "excuse me?"

taehyun only laughed, clearly enjoying this far too much. "come on, it’s okay to admit it. all these happy couples, all these people finding their soulmates just in time for the ball—" he gestured lazily at the scene around you. "i get it. it must be hard, watching all this when you’re still so tragically alone."

your lips parted, utterly scandalized. "i am not—" you sucked in a breath, fingers curling into your sleeves as you struggled to find a proper retort. "oh, shut up. just because you have nothing better to do than pester me doesn’t mean you get to act like you’re above all of this."

he hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head as if he was actually considering your words. then, with a completely straight face, he replied, "oh, but i am above all of this."

you groaned, throwing your hands up in exasperation as you quickened your pace, determined to put some distance between yourself and his insufferable teasing. but, as always, he was right there beside you, matching your steps with ease, his laughter trailing behind him like an echo.

the crisp winter air greeted you the moment you stepped outside, biting at the exposed skin of your cheeks despite the layers of warmth wrapped around you. the sun hung low in the sky, its golden light diffused by thin clouds, casting long, spindly shadows across the pavement like delicate cracks in ice. you barely spared a thought for the route ahead, already expecting taehyun to lead the way towardss the bus station, except, when you glanced over, he was walking in an entirely different direction, his strides unbothered, as if this was the plan all along.

your steps faltered, boots scuffing against the pavement as you abruptly came to a halt, brows knitting together in confusion. your gaze followed his path, trailing after him as he moved further and further away from the usual route. "...where are you going?" you called out, your voice carrying across the quiet afternoon air, laced with equal parts bewilderment and suspicion.

"to the venue."

his response was casual, so effortlessly nonchalant that for a brief second, you thought you had misheard him. but he didn’t stop walking. he didn’t even bother to glance back at you, hands shoved into his pockets as he strode ahead with unwavering confidence.

you blinked. once. twice. then, as if compelled by some cruel force, you turned your head slightly, following the path of his footsteps until—

your stomach plummeted.

there, parked neatly along the sidewalk, was a row of bicycles, their metal frames gleaming coldly beneath the pale winter sun. they stood like silent witnesses to your impending doom, completely harmless to anyone else—but to you, they may as well have been a death sentence.

"you're joking," you deadpanned, your voice void of any amusement, the words falling from your lips like lead.

finally, taehyun turned his head just enough to flash you a slow, lazy grin, the kind that sent warning bells clanging in your head. "nope."

"you're going the wrong way," "nope," a sharp huff of disbelief escaped you, frustration curling in your chest as you hastened your steps to catch up with him. "taehyun," you said, his name leaving your lips like a warning, like a thread pulled taut. "the station’s that way." with a swift movement, you jabbed a gloved finger behind you, pointing at the correct direction as if he had somehow forgotten the most basic detail of your usual routine.

but taehyun didn’t so much as falter. instead, he merely hummed, finally coming to a stop beside the bicycles, his movements as fluid as ever as he bent down, fingers deftly unfastening one of the helmets before straightening back up. "and the buses during noon are either overflowing with people or completely nonexistent," he countered smoothly, his voice carrying that infuriating ease that told you he had already thought this through. "so, unless you’d rather stand around for an hour getting elbowed and shoved by strangers, we’re going by bike."

your breath caught in your throat.

by bike.as in, you would have to sit behind him. on the same seat. with your hands gripping onto him for balance. close. too close.

panic flared within you like a sudden spark, igniting a wildfire of dread that spread rapidly through your veins. this was bad. this was very, very bad.

your fingers curled at your sides, tightening into fists as you scrambled for an excuse, anything that would get you out of this. "absolutely not," you blurted out, the words spilling out in an instant, rushed and firm. "there is no way i’m getting on that thing."

taehyun finally turned to you fully, one brow arching in that insufferable way that made your blood simmer with irritation. "oh?" he drawled, tilting his head slightly, his lips twitching at the corners as if barely restraining a smirk. "what, scared you'll fall?"

"no!" you snapped, far too quickly, far too defensive.

his smirk widened, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes like a cat who had cornered its prey. "then what's the problem?"

you opened your mouth, ready to throw back a sharp retort, ready to argue—but nothing came out. because you had no real excuse. not one that you could say aloud, at least.

because what were you supposed to tell him? that if you got too close, if your fingers so much as brushed against his skin, the hydrangea might bloom? that if he saw it, if he noticed, he would know?

taehyun, of course, was not one to back down so easily. he tapped his fingers against the bicycle’s handlebars, pretending to contemplate something, his expression exaggeratedly thoughtful. "hmm," he mused aloud, his tone light, almost playful. "well, if i go by myself, i’ll just have to check on the decor alone." taehyun sighed dramatically, shaking his head as if the very thought was exhausting. "and you know what that means. one second, the decorations are fine, the next, they’re a complete disaster. bows tied the wrong way, color schemes clashing, centerpieces all tilted and uneven—" your eye twitched violently.

"you're doing this on purpose," you accused, voice tight, heat creeping into your tone as frustration bubbled dangerously close to the surface.

"i have no idea what you’re talking about."

your teeth clenched.

you inhaled sharply, a single, measured breath, before exhaling just as forcefully. then, with a muttered curse under your breath, you ripped the helmet from his hands, yanking it onto your head with far more aggression than necessary. the strap snapped against your chin, stinging slightly, but you ignored it, too preoccupied with the simmering frustration roiling in your chest.

taehyun simply grinned, utterly unfazed by your obvious annoyance, and with an easy flick of his wrist, he patted the seat behind him before nudging his chin towardss it. “alright, hop on.” your entire body refused to move.

standing there, feet rooted firmly to the ground, you stared at the bicycle as if it were some kind of trap, a snare carefully laid out just for you. your fingers twitched slightly at your sides, curling inward, heart drumming steadily against your ribs as your mind whirred through all the possible ways this could go wrong.

if you got on, you wouldn’t be able to avoid touching him—not entirely. even the smallest brush of your skin against his, even the briefest moment of contact, could be enough. and if it bloomed, if the petals unfurled along your wrist, or worse, his—

you swallowed hard.

the helmet suddenly felt suffocating, its strap pressing against your chin as if trying to ground you, trying to force you into action. but you hesitated, standing frozen on the pavement, unable to shake off the overwhelming weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. taehyun notices. “what? don’t tell me you’re scared now,” he drawled, amusement still evident in his voice, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe, or just the simple act of waiting.

you scowled, snapping yourself out of your daze with a sharp inhale through your nose. you couldn’t stand here forever.

gathering whatever was left of your resolve, you stepped forward, moving stiffly as you approached the bicycle. your movements felt painfully deliberate, like you were walking straight towardss a decision you couldn’t take back. then, with a slow, reluctant motion, you lifted your leg over the seat, settling yourself behind taehyun, barely touching him.

your hands hovered uncertainly in the air, fingers twitching slightly as you debated where to place them. his shoulders? his waist? no. definitely not his waist. the thought alone sent a rush of warmth up your cheeks.

finally, hesitantly, you let your hands rest lightly on his shoulders, barely applying any pressure, as if keeping yourself from pressing too close would somehow change anything.

taehyun must have felt your hesitance, because he turned his head slightly, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. “you’re gonna fall off if you sit like that,” he remarked, his voice laced with something dangerously close to amusement.

“i’m fine.”

“mhm. sure.” he didn’t sound convinced.

then, without warning, he pushed off the ground with an effortless ease, his foot pressing against the pavement before the bike lurched forward.

the sudden movement sent a sharp jolt through your entire body, a startled gasp slipping past your lips before you could swallow it down. the world tilted for a split second, the ground beneath you no longer stable, no longer unmoving, and the realization crashed over you all at once—you were on a bike, with taehyun, and you were moving. Fast.

your fingers curled around his shoulders, grip tightening instinctively, and for a brief, terrifying second, you thought you felt something stir beneath your sleeve—a faint, barely-there sensation, like a whisper against your skin. but before panic could sink its claws into you, taehyun’s voice broke through the moment. "relax," he mused, his voice carrying that ever-present amusement, like he was thoroughly enjoying your distress. "hold on tight, yeah? don’t want you flying off."

your head snapped up, indignation flaring in your chest as you gritted your teeth. "don’t move so fast, idiot! you’re gonna kill us both!"

but taehyun only laughed, the sound warm and unbothered, like the very thought of crashing was so far-fetched that it didn’t even deserve consideration. the bike swayed slightly as he shifted his weight, adjusting the pedals with a practiced ease, and your breath hitched, grip tightening further.

"oh, come on," he sighed dramatically, though there was no mistaking the grin in his voice. "have a little faith, will you?"

you squeezed your eyes shut for a brief second, inhaling sharply as you willed your nerves to settle. the cold air whipped past your face, stinging against your skin, but that was the least of your worries right now, no, what truly had your heart in a vice grip was the fact that you were still on his stupid bike, still pressed far too close to taehyun, still painfully aware of every little movement he made.

you prayed silently, desperately to whoever was out there listening that you wouldn’t fall off to your untimely demise, that you wouldn’t end up sprawled across the pavement in a tangled heap of limbs and regret. but, more than anything, you prayed that your skin wouldn’t touch his. not even for a second. not even the faintest brush.

your hands remained stiff where they rested on his shoulders, fingers curled awkwardly, hovering more than gripping, as if maintaining even the smallest gap would somehow be enough to stop the inevitable. it was ridiculous. stupid, even. and yet, you couldn’t shake the fear that if your wrists so much as grazed against him, the delicate petals of a hydrangea might bloom in betrayal.

taehyun, of course, was completely unaware of your silent internal crisis. if anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself, weaving through the streets with an effortless ease, as if he wasn’t carrying the weight of someone actively trying not to touch him. the bike glided smoothly along the pavement, tires humming against the road, and despite the sheer panic buzzing in your chest, you had to admit—he was good at this. confident. steady. in control.

not that you would ever tell him that.

“you’re awfully quiet back there,” taehyun noted after a moment, his voice laced with amusement. "don't tell me you're actually scared."

you scowled, even though he couldn’t see it. “i'm not scared,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

"right," he drawled, clearly unconvinced. "is that why you’re holding onto me like i’m your last hope for survival?"

your cheeks burned. "i’m most definitely not—"

before you could finish, he suddenly shifted his weight again, making a sharp but controlled turn onto a smaller road, and you barely swallowed down a yelp, fingers tightening against his shoulders by instinct.

taehyun laughed, a full, delighted laugh that rang through the air like a bell. "see? told you to hold on tight."

if the threat of a hydrangea blooming on either of your wrists wasn’t dangling over you like a guillotine—if it wouldn’t immediately make it known to taehyun that you were soulmates—you would have already smacked him straight to the ends of the earth without hesitation.

but, as it stood, you could only grit your teeth and endure, willing yourself to focus on anything else, anything other than the warmth radiating from where your fingers clutched his shoulders, anything other than the way his laughter curled around you like an infuriatingly bright ribbon. thankfully, after what felt like an eternity of praying, of resisting the urge to strangle him, of cursing whoever decided bikes were a viable mode of transportation, the venue finally came into view.

and it was… perfect.

even from the outside, the building exudes elegance, standing tall with its grand, arched windows and smooth stone façade. the entrance is framed by a set of wide, ornate double doors, the deep mahogany polished to a gleam, reflecting the soft, winter light. despite the season, the space feels warm and inviting, as if it had been plucked straight out of a fairy tale and placed in the heart of the city.

the mere thought of the upcoming event—the swirling gowns, the mystery of masked faces, the way the night will undoubtedly hold something unforeseen—sends a strange sensation curling in your chest. something close to anticipation, but not quite.

you quickly shove the feeling aside, choosing instead to focus on the fact that you have, miraculously, survived the journey in one piece.

taehyun rolls the bike to a stop just outside the entrance, planting his foot down to steady you both before tilting his head back slightly. "see?" he hums, the smugness practically dripping from his voice. "told you i'd get us here alive."

you roll your eyes, exhaling sharply as you finally hop off his godforsaken bike, your legs feeling slightly wobbly beneath you. stretching your arms over your head, you try to shake off the lingering tension, as if that might somehow erase the memory of the past ten minutes clinging onto taehyun for dear life.

taehyun, of course, was completely unaffected, effortlessly swinging his leg over and parking the bike right near the entrance. you followed suit, brushing your hands against your coat, as if smoothing out invisible creases, before the two of you step forward, pushing through the grand double doors and into the venue.

and the minute you do, it's… everything. you step further into the ballroom, your gaze sweeping across the breathtaking transformation before you. for a moment, you allow yourself to take it all in—the warm, golden light filtering through the chandeliers, the way the sheer, icy-blue drapes cascade from the walls like frozen waterfalls, the way the entire space shimmers with an almost dreamlike quality.

it feels unreal. after all the planning, the endless meetings, the stress and exhaustion of making sure everything fell into place… it’s finally here. almost.

taehyun lets out a low whistle beside you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he surveys the room. “not bad,” he muses, tilting his head. “almost looks too good, actually. like if someone breathes wrong, the whole thing will fall apart.”

you scoff, “let’s hope that doesn’t happen, then.”

as if summoned by your words, one of the hired decorators suddenly calls out, struggling with a particularly stubborn garland that refuses to stay in place. without hesitation, taehyun strides over, sleeves rolling up as he offers a hand, his sharp eyes quickly assessing the situation. you follow, stepping in to adjust a centerpiece that’s slightly off-center, making sure every little detail is aligned to perfection.

but as you reach for the delicate arrangement, your gloves—thick and slightly cumbersome from the cold—made it difficult to adjust the smaller details. you hesitate, glancing down at your hands before exhaling softly. with a swift motion, you tug them off, tucking them into your coat pocket. bare fingers now meeting the cool surface of the table, you press forward, ensuring everything was as precise as possible.

it took a while, moving from one area to another, helping the staff tweak small things here and there—fixing a misplaced bow, adjusting the arrangement of fairy lights along the balcony railing, making sure the candles in the lanterns were evenly spaced. the chill in the air bites at your exposed skin, but you barely register it, too focused on making sure everything is just right.

but then, just as you’re adjusting the placement of one of the floral centerpieces, your fingers freeze mid-motion.

blue hydrangeas.among the delicate clusters of winter roses and baby’s breath, the soft, cerulean petals stand out like tiny fragments of the sky, woven seamlessly into the arrangements, as if they belonged there all along.

your heart stutters.

you turn to taehyun, pointing at the flowers, your voice carefully neutral. “since when were these part of the arrangement?”

he follows your gaze, eyes landing on the hydrangeas, before he shrugs with an easy, unconcerned expression. “i don’t know. added them to the mix since i thought they’d look really pretty.”

you swallowed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, fingers absently curling onto the fabric of your coat sleeve. they were just flowers. nothing more. just a simple, aesthetic choice. that’s all.

and yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe was laughing at you.

at one point, you found yourself untangling a mess of fairy lights that had somehow gotten knotted beyond reason. your fingers worked through them carefully, but the knots were stubborn, refusing to budge no matter how gently you pried them apart. frustration bubbles up in your chest as you huff, brows furrowing in concentration.

and then, without warning, taehyun’s hands appear beside yours.

your breath stills, body going rigid, heart lurching into your throat as his fingers slip effortlessly into the tangled mess. for one agonizing second, panic flares beneath your skin—what if you touch? what if, just for a moment, his fingertips graze yours? what if—

but before the thought can spiral any further, before disaster can strike, he’d already flicked his wrist, unraveling the last of the tangles with infuriating ease, his hands retreating just as quickly as they arrived. "you're too slow," taehyun teases, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

you exhale sharply, a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, forcing yourself to relax as you straighten. you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to will away the lingering tension in your spine, but before you could snap back with something equally smug, he was already walking off, adjusting the final row of lanterns along the walls like nothing had happened. time slips by unnoticed as you both continue, making minor adjustments, ensuring that every single detail was as perfect as it could be. and when you finally step back, surveying the entirety of the ballroom, it hits you—this is it. it was done.

everything was set.

with a slow, satisfied exhale, you turned to taehyun, who stood a few feet away, hands on his hips as he scanned the space with an approving nod. "not bad," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

"not bad?" you echo, raising a brow. "try amazing."

taehyun chuckles, shaking his head before motioning towardss the stage. "c’mon, let’s sit for a bit before heading back. i think we earned it."

you don’t argue, your feet already aching from standing for so long. together, the two of you made your way towardss the stage, slipping past the elegant centerpieces and rows of carefully arranged chairs. as soon as you reach the steps leading up to the platform, you drop down onto the edge of it, stretching your legs out with a quiet sigh. for a moment, neither of you spoke, simply taking in the sight before you. the ballroom, once a hollow, undecorated space, now glows under the golden hue of the chandeliers, the candlelight flickering against the polished floors, the sheer drapery billowing gently with the faintest movement of air. the hydrangeas—those damned, perfectly arranged hydrangeas—stood out among the floral displays, their deep blue petals catching the light in a way that made them look almost otherworldly.

it was beautiful. truly.

and yet, as your eyes flicker to taehyun, who sits beside you on the stage steps, you find the weight of his gaze is already on you.

your breath catches in your throat.

his eyes held a certain softness to them, something quiet and knowing, as if he had been watching you for longer than you realized. it sends a strange, unwelcome warmth creeping up your neck, and before it can spread any further, you quickly tear your gaze away, looking straight ahead instead.

"the flowers," you murmur, forcing the words out before the silence stretches too long. "they're really pretty."

you didn’t look at him when you said it. you didn’t dare.

but taehyun, who kept his gaze trained on you, only smiles—slow and fond, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"yeah," he says, his voice impossibly gentle. "really pretty indeed." the silence stretches between you again, heavier this time, though you refused to acknowledge it. you kept your gaze fixed ahead, determined to avoid taehyun’s eyes, pretending that the steady warmth of his presence beside you wasn’t throwing you off balance.

you shift slightly, putting a little more distance between you. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel like you could breathe properly again.

and then, taehyun spoke.

"say…" his voice was casual, almost too casual, but there was a lilt of something unreadable beneath it. "do you already have your date for the winter ball?"

your fingers, still idly toying with the edge of your sleeve, still at his words. you scoffed, more out of reflex than anything, before rolling your shoulders in an attempt to feign nonchalance. "i’ll be too busy," you say, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "you know, making sure everything goes smoothly. unlike you, who’ll probably spend the whole night slacking off."

taehyun huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "still have no faith in me?" he says, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. "and here i was, thinking you’d at least take a break to enjoy the night."

"not happening."

"oh, come on," he drawls, nudging your arm with his elbow. "you mean to tell me that out of everyone in the entire school, no one's lined up to ask the vice president to be their date?"

"i don’t know, kang," you deadpan, finally glancing at him, only to be met with his smug little smirk. "why don’t you take a wild guess?"

his smirk deepens, a flash of white against the dim glow of the fairy lights. “ouch,” taehyun drawls, tilting his head slightly as he watches you with playful intent. “so, what, are you just gonna spend the whole night running around, making sure forks are perfectly aligned or something?”

you let out a huff, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way his teasing lilt sends an unwelcome flutter through your stomach. “someone has to,” you counter, lifting your chin in defiance.

taehyun hums, a quiet sound that vibrates in the space between you, and for a moment, his gaze flickers—just for a fraction of a second, like he’s thinking about something, weighing his words before he speaks. and then, after a pause that stretches just long enough to make you shift uncomfortably, he says, voice smooth, casual, yet somehow deliberate.

“well, if you don’t have a date… then go with me.”

the world seems to tilt beneath you. your breath stills, caught somewhere between your lungs, your entire body locking into place as if you’ve been turned to stone. the words didn’t register at first—not fully, not properly—because there was no way he just said that.

but then, taehyun’s eyes were on you, unwavering, unreadable, and suddenly, it was real.

your head snaps towardss him so fast that your vision blurs for a second, a sharp jolt running down your spine from the sheer force of your reaction. “what?”

taehyun doesn’t laugh. he doesn’t smirk, doesn’t follow it up with some teasing remark like you expected him to. instead, he just looks at you, gaze steady, unwavering. there was something different in his expression—something softer, something that sent your heartbeat into an erratic, stuttering rhythm that you couldn’t seem to control.

he tilts his head slightly, brows lifting in the faintest hint of amusement, but his voice remains even, genuine, when he repeats, “be my date for the winter ball.”

and that’s when it truly sinks in.

taehyun wasn’t joking.

he wasn’t messing with you, not throwing out an empty invitation just to get a reaction out of you. he was asking—really asking.

your pulse pounds so loudly in your ears that you almost missed the way his fingers tapped idly against his knee, the only sign that he might not be as unaffected as he looked.

you stare at him, mouth opening, then closing, then opening again, but no sound comes out. your brain was short-circuiting, struggling to process this new reality, to make sense of the fact that kang taehyun—the sharp-witted, ever-teasing, infuriatingly smug student council president—just asked you to be his date.

and what’s worse was he was still looking at you like he was waiting for an answer. your throat feels dry as you blinked rapidly, the weight of his words settling over you like a thick, suffocating fog. you struggle to find your voice, to piece together a response that doesn’t make you sound completely and utterly unhinged, but all that comes out is a broken, stuttering—

“w-why are you asking me?”

taehyun stiffened, just slightly.

it was barely noticeable; the way his shoulders tensed for half a second before he exhales slowly, as if trying to compose himself. and then, just like that, the boy in front of you suddenly wasn’t quite as composed as before.

he clears his throat, glancing away for a moment, his fingers absently picking at an invisible thread on his sleeve. “well,” he starts, voice a little quieter now, a little less teasing. “i just thought… i mean, you’re always so busy with everything—running around, making sure everything is perfect, taking care of things no one even notices..”

taehyun pauses, pressing his lips together as if debating whether to continue, but then he sighs and pushes forward, gaze flickering back to you.

“i guess i just wanted you to have a reason to enjoy it, too. with me.”

his words hung between you, soft yet unbearably heavy. and maybe it’s the way he says it, so matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural thing in the world—like it was obvious, like it was something he’s thought about before.

maybe that was what left you speechless.

your lips part before you could stop them, the words slipping past your tongue in a breath, barely louder than a whisper—fragile, uncertain, like a secret not meant to be spoken aloud.

"that’s it..?"

the moment they left your mouth, you realized your mistake. taehyun stilled.

it was subtle at first, just a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes, a split-second shift in his posture, the faintest tension in his shoulders. but then the silence swells, thick and suffocating, pressing against your lungs like a weight you couldn’t shake off. your own breath falters, hitching ever so slightly, and you swore you could hear the soft, sharp inhale taehyun took in response.

he didn’t expect that.

and neither did you.

and you didn’t know what was worse—the fact that you let it slip or the fact that taehyun seems so thrown off by it.

his fingers twitched at his sides, just the barest movement, but you noticed. you noticed the way his lips parted slightly, as if he had something to say, only to press them together again, hesitation flickering behind his sharp gaze.

then, finally—

"do you really want me to say it?"

taehyun’s voice was softer this time, lower, laced with something heavier, something cautious, yet impossibly steady. his gaze never wavers, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a sharp jolt down your spine.

you didn’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until the air rushes back into your lungs all at once, too fast, too sharp. because he was close again, too close, and the space between you felt thinner than paper, more fragile than glass.

and as if the moment wasn’t already dangerous enough, he leaned in. not much, just a fraction, just enough to make the air around you shift, just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, just enough that you panic.

you shifted back almost instantly, pressing yourself further against the stage as if it’ll somehow create more distance, more space, more room to breathe. but all it did was make your flustered state even more obvious, the warmth on your cheeks burning deeper, spreading to the tips of your ears.

taehyun notices.

his eyes flicker, his lips twitch, and for the briefest moment, he almost looks amused—like he caught onto something, like he learned something. but there was something else beneath it, something more hesitant, more careful, as if he was testing the waters, as if he was waiting for you to stop him.

"do you really want to know why i asked you?"taehyun’s voice was impossibly softer, if that was even possible, barely above a whisper, yet it crashes into you like a tidal wave. your stomach twists, your hands curling into the fabric of your coat, as if that might somehow ground you, as if that might keep you from spiraling any further into whatever this is.

the space between you grew smaller, inch by inch, breath by breath. it was agonizingly slow, deliberate in a way that made your pulse pound against your ribs, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. he wasn’t just leaning in, he was watching you—taking in every flicker of emotion that crossed your face, every shallow inhale, every unspoken thought that lingered in the air between you. you couldn’t do this.

the weight of his gaze, the closeness, the way his voice curled around the edges of something unspoken—it was too much. your breath was coming in short, uneven bursts now, your heartbeat hammering loudly in your ears, and you know, you know, if you stayed here any longer, if you let him get any closer, you were going to fall into something you wouldn't be able to climb back out of. so you move.

your legs pushed you up before you could think twice, a desperate attempt to escape the heavy pull of his presence. but you barely take a step before—

warm hands hold around your wrists. your world tilts.

not in the way it had earlier, when taehyun had sent his bike into motion and nearly launched you both into the afterlife, but in a way that felt heavier, deeper—like the very foundation of your understanding has cracked beneath your feet, sending you spiraling into something you weren’t prepared for.

because there, just above the place where his fingers wrap around your wrist, something was blooming.

not metaphorically, not in some abstract, romantic sense, but literally.

soft blue petals unfurled against your skin like a whisper, delicate yet impossibly real. a hydrangea, its blue hue rich and vibrant, appearing right where his touch lingered, as if drawn forth by the warmth of his hand against your bare wrist.

and before you could even comprehend it, before the weight of what’s happening can fully settle, you see it—

another one.

on his wrist.

a mirror to yours.

your breath stutters.

a sharp, unsteady inhale rushes through your lungs, but the air felt thick, too thick, like the moment itself was pressing down on you, sinking into your bones, refusing to be ignored. you couldn't move. couldn't breathe. couldn't  think. the world has shrunk down to this single, impossible reality, this moment suspended in time where nothing existed but this.

taehyun sucks in a breath.

his grip on you falters, just slightly, but it was enough. enough to tell you that he was feeling it too—the way the air has shifted, the way the ground no longer felt steady beneath your feet. and when you forced yourself to look at him, to really look at him, what you saw made your stomach twist.

he was frozen.

taehyun, who always had something to say, who teased and taunted and never hesitated to throw a playful jab, was speechless.

his eyes were wide, dark pupils blown with something unreadable, something teetering between disbelief and sheer, undiluted shock. his lips parted, then pressed together again, as if he was trying to find the right words but coming up completely empty.

he blinked once.

twice.

then, slowly, almost hesitantly, his gaze dropped back down—to where his hand still holds your wrist, then to where the hydrangea had bloomed against his skin.

the proof.

the impossible, undeniable proof.

you didn’t know how long you both stood there like that, suspended in the moment, locked in place by something you didn’t yet have the words for. the silence between you was deafening, thick and weighted, pulsing with something neither of you know how to name.

“what…” taehyun’s voice finally comes, but it was quiet. too quiet. fragile.

“what just—”

but he didn’t finish. didn’t have to. because the answer was right there, imprinted against your wrists, marking you both in a way that cannot be ignored. “you’re my soulmate?”you couldn’t speak.

you couldn’t reply.

you couldn't do anything.

the weight of reality crashes down on you with an intensity that made your head spin, your breath hitching painfully in your throat. the room suddenly felt much too small, the air thick and unsteady, pressing in from all sides as if the universe itself was forcing you to acknowledge the truth—the truth that had been lingering just beneath the surface for weeks, waiting, biding its time, until this exact moment. until now.

taehyun knows.

he finally knows.

and you didn’t know what was worse—the fact that you kept it from him, or the fact that deep down, a part of you had always known this moment would come. you had feared it, dreaded it, had told yourself over and over again that you were prepared for it, that you had built up enough walls to keep yourself safe when the inevitable finally arrived. but standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you realize you weren’t prepared at all. your body refused to move. your fingers, still curled slightly from where they had almost—almost—reached back for him, felt like they were frozen in place, caught between instinct and hesitation. the silence between you was so thick, so deafening, it drowned out every other sound in the room, leaving only the frantic pounding of your own heartbeat, a desperate, uneven rhythm that betrays every attempt at composure.

taehyun was just as still, just as caught in the moment as you were. his expression was unreadable, his lips parted slightly as if he wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start. his gaze flickers down to his wrist, his breath visibly hitching when he takes in the intricate petals of the blue hydrangea, now settled against his skin like an unspoken truth that neither of you can deny. his fingers twitch once, twice, as though testing to see if the mark is real, as though part of him is still grappling with the weight of what this meant.

it was real.

it had always been real.

finally, after what felt like a lifetime, taehyun spoke.

“did you know?”

his voice was barely above a whisper, each syllable laced with a quiet, underlying emotion that you couldn’t quite place. there was no anger, no accusation, nothing sharp or cutting—only something softer, something careful, something almost hesitant. it was a question, but more than that, a plea, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between you, to make sense of the revelation that had just unraveled before him.

but still, you said nothing.

your throat was dry, your mouth refusing to form the words that sat heavy on your tongue. your breath came in shallow, uneven exhales, your fingers on your other hand curling into the fabric of your sleeve as if that alone might keep you from falling apart.

and that silence—your silence—was all he needed to know. taehyun exhales, the sound slow and measured, but you saw the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers pressed onto your skin before uncurling again, the way his entire posture shifted ever so slightly as realization settled deep into his bones. his face remained composed, but his eyes—his eyes that have always been so sharp, so piercing, so impossibly hard to fool—betrayed him entirely.

“why…” his voice faltered, catching slightly before he swallowed and tried again, this time more resolute, more certain. “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyun took a single step forward, slow, hesitant, and careful in a way that made your stomach twist with unease. it was as if he was afraid that any sudden movement would send you running, as if he was walking on fragile ground, unsure of what might shatter beneath him.

you felt your breath catch, the air between you growing heavier, charged with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

“how long have you known?”

your hands trembled, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a force you couldn't  escape. you swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat, willing yourself to find your voice, to say something, anything.

“i…” the word barely made it past your lips before you had to clear your throat, forcing yourself to steady the shake in your voice. “since about… two weeks ago…”

taehyun breathed in sharply, his expression flickering with something you couldn’t figure out, something shifting, something unraveling. you watched as his gaze drops slightly, as though he was replaying every moment, every conversation, every fleeting glance from the past two weeks with a new understanding.

and then he laughs.

soft, breathless, light as air.

not in mockery, not in disbelief, not with amusement, but something else entirely.

relief.

taehyun’s shoulders eased, his posture relaxing just slightly as the realization settled deep within him. he lifted his free hand, pushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes, before shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

“i knew it,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, as if the words had been lingering in the back of his mind all this time, just waiting to be spoken. “so this was why… why i’ve always felt this… pull towardss you… no matter how much you tried to push me away.”

his voice was filled with certainty, with something raw, something so achingly sincere that it makes your breath stutter in your chest.

because you know exactly what he meant.

that pull.

the way your eyes always found him in a crowded room, the way his voice had always cut through the noise, the way his laughter had always settled so easily in the spaces between you. the way his presence had always been something you could never quite shake, no matter how much you tried to ignore it and tell yourself that you hated it.

and now you both know why.

taehyun takes another step forward, closer this time, close enough that the warmth of his presence began to seep into your skin, making your pulse pound against your chest.

his hand lifts, his fingers brushing against your other one, just barely, just enough to send a spark of warmth racing up your arm. it was the softest touch, barely there, but it made your entire body go still.

he hesitated for only a moment before fully taking your hand in his.

you inhaled sharply.

his grip was firm but gentle, steady but careful, like he was afraid of pushing too far, like he was still waiting for you to pull away. his thumb brushes against the side of your palm, the warmth of his skin bleeding into yours, grounding you, anchoring you to the moment.

“you feel it too, right?”

your lips part, the answer right there, right at the tip of your tongue, so close you can taste it.

but then—

panic.

it surged through your veins like wildfire, swallowing you whole before you could stop it, before you could even try to fight against it. your chest tightened, breath shallow and uneven, and for a split second, the weight of taehyun’s touch—the warmth of his fingers wrapped gently around you—became unbearable. because if you admit it—if you said it aloud, if you give in, if you let yourself fall—there would be no turning back.

no running.

no pretending.

no more hiding behind the walls you spent so long building.

your fingers twitched, your entire body tensing as if preparing to flee even before your mind could catch up. taehyun’s presence was everywhere—his touch, his gaze, the quiet steadiness of his breath filling the space between you. it was overwhelming, suffocating in a way that had nothing to do with discomfort and everything to do with fear.

so you do the only thing you know how to do.

you yanked yourself away. the movement was so sudden, so desperate, that taehyun barely had time to react before you were stumbling back, ripping yourself from the warmth of his grasp as though it burnt. his hands slipped away from yours, the loss of contact immediate, startling, like stepping into the cold after being wrapped in the sun’s embrace. but the absence wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper, something that lingered in the air between you like a wound torn open too soon.

taehyun didn’t move.

his brows furrowed, the lines of his face tightening, a flicker of confusion passing through his wide, searching eyes. his mouth parted slightly, as if he was about to say something—to ask, to reach, to hold—but you didn't give him the chance.

you didn’t even give yourself the chance to think.

you turned.

your breath hitches, your pulse roaring in your ears as your legs move on instinct, on impulse, on fear.

and then you ran.

you didn’t stop, didn’t look back, didn’t let yourself process the way your vision blurs at the edges or the way your heartbeat pounded against your chest, each thud a deafening reminder of what you’ve just done. your limbs felt weightless yet heavy all at once, like you were floating through a dream you desperately wished to wake up from. your hands tremble at your sides, curled into fists so tight that your nails bite into your palms, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself, to ground yourself against the storm raging inside you.

but there was no grounding yourself from this.

there was no outrunning the way your soul ached, the way something inside you screamed at you to stop, to turn back, to look at him just once, just for a second.

but you couldn’t.

not when his words still echoed in your mind, wrapping around your thoughts and pressing against your lungs. you feel it too, right?

not when the memory of his laughter still lingered, warm and full of relief, the sound of someone who had just found something they had spent their whole life searching for.

not when you know—when you know—that if you let yourself turn back now, you will never have the strength to leave again.

so you kept going. you push past the door, your movements frantic, your breath coming out in broken, uneven exhales as you slipped away, disappearing into the night like a shadow retreating from the light.

and taehyun?

taehyun just stood there.

his hands were still outstretched, fingers curled ever so slightly, as if still reaching for something—someone—who was no longer there. his expression was blank, his chest rising and falling with steady, measured breaths, but his eyes—his impossibly expressive eyes—were frozen in place, locked onto the spot where you stood only moments before.

and yet, despite the stillness, despite the quiet composure he had always carried so effortlessly, taehyun looked shattered. ꒰💐꒱ the night felt endless. you lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, but sleep refused to come. the weight of your actions, of everything that had unfolded just hours ago, sat heavy on your chest, pressing down like an unbearable force. you tried to shut your eyes, tried to will yourself into oblivion, but every time you did, you saw him—saw the look on his face when he realized, saw the way eyes brightened like never before.

taehyun was happy. no, he was ecstatic.

you could still hear his laugh, that breathless, wondrous kind, like the world had just revealed its greatest secret to him. i knew it… he said, voice laced with something so soft, so full of relief, as if everything in his life had suddenly fallen into place. you had never seen him like that before—never seen kang taehyun, with all his sharp wit and unwavering confidence, look so utterly and completely at peace.

and then. and then you ripped it all away.

the moment your hands had left his, the moment your body turned, his joy had shattered. you had felt it, even with your back to him, even as you pushed past the door, as you fled like a coward. you had felt the shift in the air, the quiet devastation settling in behind you.

now, as you lay in the suffocating silence of your room, you wondered if taehyun was still standing there, staring at the empty space where you had been. wondered if he was replaying everything in his mind the way you were, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why—why—you ran.

you squeezed your eyes shut, but it didn’t help. the memory of his expression—the way his brows drew together, the way his mouth parted just slightly in stunned disbelief—burned behind your eyelids.

the ache in your chest only grew heavier, sinking deep into your bones like a weight you couldn’t shake off. it was unbearable—this gnawing, twisting feeling of guilt, regret, and something else, something even more terrifying.

because it wasn’t just taehyun’s expression that haunted you. it wasn’t just the way his joy crumbled into confusion, into hurt, into quiet devastation—it was the way he had reached for you, the way his fingers had brushed against yours so gently, so tentatively, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly. and in the end, you did.

you saw the light in his eyes, the unguarded, unfiltered joy written all over his face, and you destroyed it.

a strangled breath left your lips as you curled in on yourself, pressing your hands against your chest as if that could somehow hold everything in, as if that could stop your heart from unraveling at the seams. the past few weeks—every moment, every lingering glance, every teasing remark that had felt just a little too soft—they all came crashing down on you at once, suffocating in their intensity. and morning arrived too soon.

no matter how tightly you curled into yourself, no matter how desperately you tried to will the world away, time didn’t stop for you. it marched forward, indifferent to the storm that raged inside you throughout the night.

you didn’t sleep a wink—you simply drifted, slipped in and out of restless, fragmented dreams, only to jolt awake each time with his voice echoing in your head, with the memory of his warmth ghosting over your skin. you turned onto your side, onto your back, onto your stomach, but no position, no adjustment, no desperate attempt to push the thoughts away helped.

so when your alarm finally rang, shrill and unforgiving in the silence of your room, you had no choice but to face the day.

your limbs felt heavy as you dragged yourself out of bed, exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight. the mirror was unkind, reflecting back dark circles beneath your eyes, the dullness in your gaze, the exhaustion carved into every line of your face. you moved through the motions of getting ready on autopilot—washing up, dressing, gathering your things—but the entire time, your mind remained stuck on one single, inescapable fact.

you would see him today.

you would step into the council room, and taehyun would be there. and you had no idea what would be waiting for you on the other side of that door.

was he angry? hurt? indifferent? did he spend the night thinking about it, just as you did? had he regretted it?

or worse, did he realize that maybe, maybe this whole thing had been a mistake?

your thoughts clung to you as you made your way to school, each step feeling heavier than the last. the usual morning sounds—the chatter of students, the rustling of papers, the distant ringing of a bell—faded into background noise as you moved through the halls, your heart hammering with each step that brought you closer to the council room.

and then you stepped inside.

you barely had time to take in the familiar sight of scattered documents, opened planners, and the faint scent of coffee before your eyes landed on him.

taehyun.

and he… he looked hollow.

the sight nearly knocked the breath out of you.

gone was the sharp glint in his eyes, the ever-present amusement, the effortless ease he carried himself with. instead, his features were dull, tired—shoulders slumped, gaze distant as he stared down at the papers in front of him, pen loosely gripped in his hand.

the weight in your chest only grew heavier as you hesitantly stepped further into the room, the familiar scrape of the chair against the floor sounding much louder than it should have in the suffocating silence. you lowered yourself into your usual seat, forcing yourself to settle, to breathe, to act as if everything was fine.

but nothing was.

because taehyun didn’t even look at you.

not a glance. not a teasing remark. not even the usual exasperated sigh when you made a little too much noise pulling out your notes. nothing. he simply remained as he was, unmoving, his gaze still fixed on the papers before him as if they held the answers to something greater, something deeper, something that could explain why.

and the absence of his attention, of his presence, of him—stung far more than you ever anticipated.

you swallowed hard, fingers curling into your lap, nails pressing into your palms as you willed yourself to keep your expression neutral, to not let the weight of your own guilt show. but the silence stretched, pressing down on you like a vice, wrapping itself around your throat until you thought you might suffocate under it—

“what’s with you two?”

the voice cut through the tension like a blade, startling you from your spiraling thoughts.

beomgyu.

you turned your head just slightly, enough to see him watching the both of you with furrowed brows, arms crossed over his chest. his gaze flickered between you and taehyun, sharp, calculating, observant.

beside him, jiwon leaned back in his chair, one elbow propped on the table as he arched a brow. “yeah, seriously. it’s weird in here.” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, lips pulling into a frown. “you guys didn’t, like, mess up the decor together yesterday and made a pact of silence, right?”

you flinched.

taehyun didn’t even blink.

beomgyu’s frown deepened. “okay, what the hell. what is going on?”

you spoke—too forced, too strained. “nothing.”

“bullshit.”

jiwon scoffed, nudging beomgyu with his elbow. “look, man, maybe they’re just in a bad mood.”

beomgyu didn’t look convinced. but taehyun didn’t give him a chance to press further, because before beomgyu could open his mouth again, he quietly cleared his throat, finally shifting, finally moving—only to stand from his seat, pushing his chair back with slow, deliberate movements.

“i need some air,” taehyun muttered, and just like that, he walked out, and now it was your turn to be left dumbfounded and hurt.

the days leading up to the ball passed in a blur, but the weight in your chest remained the same. if anything, it only grew heavier, sinking deeper into your bones with each passing moment.

and throughout it all, taehyun didn’t speak to you. to anyone, rather.

he wasn’t gone, not physically—he was still here, still doing his work with the same meticulous precision, still showing up early, still staying late. but he was missing in a way that was impossible to ignore, and the weight of it pressed against you, suffocating and relentless.

and it wasn’t just you who noticed. at first, beomgyu had been the most vocal about it. he had tried everything—nudging taehyun’s shoulder playfully, cracking jokes that usually earned him an exaggerated eye-roll or a deadpan retort, even deliberately messing up the seating chart just to get a reaction. but nothing worked. taehyun barely reacted, only offering the occasional hum of acknowledgment or a clipped, indifferent response before returning to whatever task was in front of him.

he had always been diligent, always the type to follow through with his responsibilities, but this was no longer dedication, this was detachment.

"seriously, what is his problem?" beomgyu had muttered under his breath one afternoon, throwing his pen onto the table with a frustrated sigh. he turned towardss you then, his brows furrowed, gaze sharp. "he’s been acting like a ghost for days.”

your breath caught in your throat, fingers tightening instinctively around the clipboard in your lap.

jiwon, who had been watching the entire exchange with thinly veiled curiosity, shifted in his seat, drumming his fingers idly against the desk. "maybe he’s just tired,” he mused, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

beomgyu scoffed, shaking his head. "no. no, this isn’t tired—this is something else. he’s not just quiet, he’s—” beomgyu hesitated, frowning as he searched for the right word before finally settling on, “empty.”

and god, wasn’t that the truth?

taehyun had always been level-headed, composed, but never like this. never so distant. his sharp wit and effortless charm had dulled into something barely there, and the shift was so stark, so jarring, it left an undeniable hollowness in the air.

you wanted to say something, needed to say something. but what could you possibly say? that it was your fault? that you had seen the light in his eyes, the happiness that had appeared in his features when he first saw the flower on both your wrists, and how you crushed it beneath your own fear?

the weight of your own cowardice sat heavy on your shoulders, suffocating, unbearable. so you said nothing.

the ball was only days away. the decorations were finalized, the arrangements had been double-checked, and everything was falling into place, piece by perfect piece. and yet, for all that careful planning, for all the progress and preparation, everything still felt like it was falling apart. ꒰💐꒱ the night of the ball finally arrived.

golden lights illuminated the grand hall, casting a soft, ambient glow that seeped through the tall windows, flickering like distant stars against the darkness of the evening. inside, the sound of laughter and lively chatter drifted through the open doors, mingling with the faint melody of a waltz playing from within. everything was perfect—just as the council had planned, just as everyone had spent weeks ensuring.

but you simply stood outside.

your fingers curled around the delicate mask in your hands, the material pressing against your skin. the evening breeze brushed against your shoulders, carrying with it the distant hum of celebration, but you couldn't bring yourself to move forward, to step inside and immerse yourself in it all.

your dress, a simple yet breathtaking gown, clung to your frame in all the right places, accentuating without overwhelming, elegant without being extravagant. the fabric, a soft black satin that shimmered under the moonlight, cascaded down your figure in smooth waves, pooling ever so slightly at your feet. it was understated, refined, beautiful, and yet, despite how perfectly it fit, despite how much care had gone into choosing it, you had never felt more out of place.

you had spent days, weeks, preparing for this night. every detail had been planned, every decoration meticulously arranged. this was supposed to be a night of celebration, of triumph—a culmination of all the hard work the council had poured into making this event a reality.

but the thought of stepping inside, of weaving through the sea of masks and laughter, of pretending that everything was fine? it terrified you.

because you didn’t know how you would feel once you see him tonight. and perhaps, worse than that, you didn’t know if you even would.

your stomach twisted painfully, an ache that no amount of deep breaths could ease. would taehyun even be here? had he decided to stay away, just as you had considered doing? or would he be inside, blending into the crowd, masked and distant, just another face in a room full of strangers?

or would he be there, looking the same as always, standing in a corner with that quiet confidence, that knowing gaze, that presence that you could never quite shake, no matter how much distance you tried to put between you?

your heart pounded at the thought.

you had spent the past week avoiding his eyes, ducking away from his presence, watching helplessly as he withdrew further and further into himself. and yet, even as he distanced himself, even as the banter faded and the stolen glances disappeared, he never confronted you. never pushed, never asked for an explanation.

but tonight, there would be no desks between you, no schedules to hide behind.

if taehyun was here—if he sees you—then there would be no more avoiding it.

the weight of that realization sat heavy in your chest, pressing down, making it harder and harder to breathe.

you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to move, to take a single step forward.

but your legs felt rooted in place, your body paralyzed by the what-ifs, by the uncertainty, by the unbearable truth that no matter how much you wanted to run, no matter how much you wanted to hide, you wanted to see him. god, you wanted to see him.

but did he still want to see you? taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself, gripping the delicate mask in your hands one final time before slipping it over your face. the satin ribbon tied keeping it in place felt tighter than necessary, as if it was binding you in place, but you refused to let yourself hesitate any longer.

with slow, deliberate steps, you moved forward, the soft fabric of your gown brushing against your ankles as you entered the venue. the moment you crossed the threshold, you were met with a breathtaking sight—warm golden light spilling from crystal chandeliers, illuminating a sea of elegantly dressed students, their gowns and suits shimmering beneath the glow.

a small smile ghosted over your lips, a rare moment of relief settling in your chest. this was it. after weeks of planning, after endless discussions and meticulous arrangements, the masquerade ball came to life. and seeing it unfold, watching as your peers twirled across the floor, their laughter ringing through the air, made all of the exhaustion worth it. it was beautiful.

as you weaved through the crowd, exchanging polite nods and returning greetings, a sudden poke at your shoulder made you pause. blinking, you turned on your heel, only to be met with a grinning masked beomgyu, standing beside someone whose presence, even behind an intricately designed mask, was unmistakable—soobin. their hands were intertwined, fingers loosely laced together, a silent testament to their bond.

“there you are!” beomgyu beamed, his enthusiasm practically radiating off him as he gestured wildly around the venue. “you have to admit, this is pretty amazing.”

soobin, ever the calmer presence, chuckled softly before dipping his head slightly in greeting. “congratulations,” he said, his voice smooth and sincere. “everything turned out beautifully. thank you for all the effort you put into making this happen.”

before you could even respond, beomgyu huffed, dramatically tossing an arm over soobin’s shoulder. “my idea, by the way,” he interjected, puffing out his chest in pride.

soobin, despite his mask obscuring half of his face, still managed to exude exasperation as he shot beomgyu a tired look. “i know, beomgyu. you’ve told me like a billion times.”

a quiet laugh left your lips as you shook your head, momentarily allowing yourself to bask in their familiar bickering. there was something comforting about it, something steady and unchanging. but just as quickly as that warmth settled, it vanished, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. because watching them—watching the ease in their dynamic, the way they played off each other so effortlessly—it only reminded you of one person.

your breath hitched, the tightening in your chest returning with full force. you forced a smile, pushing down the lump forming in your throat. “i should, um, check on the food,” you murmured, the words slipping from your lips before you could second-guess them.

soobin gave you a small nod, and beomgyu, thankfully, didn’t press further, only giving you a playful salute as you stepped away. with each step, your heart felt heavier, your resolve beginning to crumble once again.

you barely registered the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses around you. all you could focus on was the overwhelming weight pressing against your ribs, the relentless pounding of your own thoughts. you shouldn't have come.

but then—

but then you saw him.

it was almost cruel how effortlessly your eyes found him, how no amount of dim lighting or the sea of masks could ever make him anything less than noticeable.

taehyun stood near the far side of the ballroom, a vision of effortless poise and sophistication. his suit was a deep shade of charcoal, tailored perfectly to his frame, accentuating the sharp lines of his shoulders and the lean definition of his form. the crisp white of his dress shirt contrasted against the dark fabric, and the black tie on his collar was neatly knotted, adding to the refined elegance of his appearance. but it was his presence—the sheer gravity of him—that made your breath catch.

his mask, sleek and simple, framed his eyes in a way that only enhanced their depth, making them appear even more calculating. the dim lighting cast delicate shadows over his features, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips—lips that had once smiled so easily, so playfully, but now remained pressed into a thin, unreadable line.

you stopped in your tracks. you watched taehyun, unable to look away, unable to tear your gaze from the way he stood—poised yet distant, present yet entirely unreachable. the ballroom carried on around you, the music swelling, distant conversations rippling through the air, but it all faded into nothing as your eyes remained fixed on him.

his posture was impeccable, as always, shoulders squared, chin lifted ever so slightly, an image of effortless control. but there was something different now, something restrained in the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, in the way his weight shifted subtly from one foot to the other, as if he were caught between the instinct to move and the need to stay still.

and then, as if he could feel your gaze, as if some invisible thread had finally pulled tight between the two of you—

his eyes found yours.

and the moment they did, something in the air shifted, as if the world seemed to narrow, the sounds around you dulling into nothing more than a distant hum.

taehyun’s stare widened just slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise betraying his otherwise composed expression. and god, was he taking you in.

taehyun was looking at you—truly looking at you. not like the stolen glances from before, not with the distance he carefully put between you these past few days. this was different. this was open, raw, something achingly vulnerable slipping through the cracks of his carefully built composure.

and the way he looked at you…

it was as if he had never seen you before.

as if he were discovering something entirely new, something he hadn’t realized until this very second. his gaze traced over you, taking in every detail, every curve of your form, every shimmering fold of your gown. his lips parted slightly, his breath hitching just the tiniest bit, and even with the mask covering half his face, even with the dim lighting softening his features, you could see it—the quiet, unspoken admiration that flickered across his face.

your heartbeat roared in your ears, your body frozen in place, unable to move, unable to breathe. neither of you stepped forward, neither of you dared to break the fragile silence that had settled between you, balancing on the edge of something terrifyingly real.

and then—

he blinked.

just once.

but when his eyes opened again, something was different. something had shifted.

taehyun’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. his hands twitched at his sides, his fingers curling inward like they ached to reach for something—for someone. you watched as a breath, deep and shaky, left his lips, his shoulders rising with the weight of it.

and then he turned away.

the moment shattered.

the spell broke.

before you could process it, before you could make sense of the way your chest constricted so violently at the loss, taehyun pivoted on his heel, his movements sharp, hurried. his polished shoes barely made a sound against the ballroom floor as he slipped past the sea of guests, weaving through the crowd with quick, purposeful steps.

he was leaving.your heart lurched, panic flaring in your veins, the shock of it slamming into your chest like a physical blow.

no.

your breath caught in your throat, the realization settling in all at once. he was running away.

and before you could stop yourself, before the fear could paralyze you, before you could make the same mistake twice—

you ran after him.

you pushed through the crowd, rushing between the clusters of students lost in conversation, their voices nothing but a muffled blur against the frantic pounding of your heartbeat. your pulse roared in your ears, your breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as you dodged flurries of students and pressed forward, not caring if you stumbled, not caring if you brushed too roughly against someone.

taehyun was running, and you couldn’t let him get away. not again.

your fingers clenched at the fabric of your dress, lifting the hem just enough to keep yourself from tripping, but your feet barely felt the ground beneath you. all that mattered was him. all that mattered was the sight of his retreating figure, slipping past the grand archway leading to the open night air, disappearing beyond the cascading ivy that framed the ballroom’s second entrance.

the cool night hit you like a breath of fresh air the moment you broke free from the suffocating warmth of the ballroom. the murmurs of the crowd dulled, replaced by the soft rustle of the wind through the trees, the distant hum of music fading behind you. but none of it registered, not the chill against your bare skin, not the way your lungs burned from exertion, because taehyun was still ahead, his silhouette cutting through the garden’s moonlit paths.

the silvery glow of the moon bathed everything in an ethereal light, casting long shadows along the pathway, painting the world in hushed shades of blue and silver. the neatly trimmed hedges and delicate blooms swayed gently with the breeze, their fragrance lingering in the crisp air.

your steps faltered as you sucked in a breath, throat dry, chest tight—but you couldn’t stop now. not when he was slipping away again.

so you did the only thing you could.

"kang taehyun!!"

your voice cut through the quiet, sharp and desperate, carrying through the still night air.

and just like that, he finally stopped. taehyun’s steps slowed, hesitating, before finally coming to a full halt. your fingers curled into the fabric of your gown, gripping tightly, as if grounding yourself, as if holding on to the last bit of courage you had left. you didn’t trust your voice—not when your heart was still hammering like crazy, not when the ache in your throat made it impossible to swallow. but still, you forced the words out, soft, almost fragile in the way they broke past your lips.

"please..."

the sound barely carried over the distance between you, but it reached him somehow. you knew it did.

but taehyun remained unmoving.

his back stayed rigid, his shoulders taut, rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. he didn’t turn, didn’t even so much as flinch, as if he was willing himself to stay still, as if he was caught in the same unbearable moment as you, yet refused to acknowledge it.

the silence between you stretched, thick and suffocating, heavy with the weight of all the words neither of you had spoken. it clung to the air, to the space that felt impossibly vast despite the few feet separating you.

and then, after what felt like an eternity—so slow it nearly made you dizzy—he turned around.

taehyun’s body tensed before he shifted, hesitant, deliberate, as if caught in a decision he hadn’t quite made yet. the motion was almost careful, painfully slow, as though he feared what he would see when he finally turned to face you.

taehyun’s gaze met yours instantly, locking onto you with an intensity that stole the breath straight from your lungs. the silver glow of the moon framed his silhouette, casting soft shadows over his face, over the smooth planes of his mask.

and his eyes… they held something unreadable. something you couldn’t name, something tangled between a dozen emotions, flickering too fast, too fleeting for you to grasp.

but he was looking at you.

yet for the first time, you didn’t know if that was a good thing.

taehyun’s gaze never wavered, never softened, not even for a second. it was sharp, cutting through the space between you like a blade, dissecting, waiting. and you, standing beneath the weight of it all, feeling it press into your skin, into the marrow of your bones, suddenly felt small. exposed. self-conscious.

your throat tightened, the sudden awareness of yourself creeping in, making you shift where you stood. your shoulders straightened, your hands fidgeting at your sides, as if fixing your posture would somehow anchor you, would somehow make you feel like you belonged in this moment instead of drowning in it. your tongue darted out, wetting your dry lips, yet the words—whatever words you were meant to say—refused to come.

it was silent. painfully, deafeningly silent.

now that he was here, standing before you, now that you finally had him where you had been desperate to keep him—you didn’t know what to do. what to say.

"if you're not going to say anything, then i'm leaving."

taehyun’s voice cut through the stillness, low and cold, distant in a way that sent a sharp pang straight to your chest. it was piercing, impassive—so unlike him. where was the warmth? the teasing edge? where was the taehyun who never let a moment pass without a quip, a smirk, a knowing look? where was the taehyun who once made the air between you feel light, easy? the thought hit you so hard that it sent you stumbling forward, hands moving on instinct, reaching—desperate. and before you could stop yourself, before hesitation could creep in and steal this moment away from you, your fingers closed around his wrist.

a sight too familiar.

but this time, you weren’t the one running.

this time, you were the one trying to stop him.

"wait," the word barely came out, breathless, trembling. you let go of taehyun’s wrist, and then—then, the floodgates broke. "taehyun…"

his name wobbled on your lips, barely a breath, barely a sound, but it held every ounce of desperation clawing at your chest, every ounce of regret that weighed heavy on your shoulders. your throat tightened, a lump lodging itself deep within, suffocating, unrelenting, but you forced yourself to swallow it down. because if you didn’t speak now—if you let this moment slip through your fingers like sand—you knew you’d never forgive yourself.

"i’m sorry."

the words trembled, cracked, barely held together by the fragile threads of your unraveling composure. and yet, they still weren’t enough. nothing felt like enough—not for all the pain you had caused him, not for all the hurt you had left in your wake, not for the way you had looked into his eyes that night and still walked away.

"i’m so sorry, taehyun."

his name shattered from your lips this time, breaking somewhere between a sob and a plea.

"i was stupid. i was so, so stupid."

you inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists, nails biting into your palms in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from completely falling apart. but it was no use. everything was spilling over—emotions too big, too raw, too heavy to be contained anymore. "i didn’t mean to push you away. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i never wanted to hurt you." your voice wavered, cracking under the weight of your own words, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a fleeting second, trying yet failing to steady yourself. "but i did."

you exhaled shakily, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even as your own blurred with unshed tears. "i hurt you, and i was too much of a coward to admit anything." your fingers twitched at your sides, aching to reach for him, aching to grasp onto something—anything—that could ground you in the midst of the storm raging inside you. "i was scared," you whispered, voice barely above a breath, the admission tasting bitter, like guilt and shame and every unsaid thing you had buried deep inside yourself for far too long.

"i was scared because i didn’t understand it," a hollow laugh escaped you, but there was no humor in it. only pain. "because i didn’t understand you." you exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if that could erase all the years of denial, all the wasted time, all the moments you had spent pretending. "from the very start, taehyun, you made me feel things i had never felt before—things i didn’t know how to name, things that made my heart race and my hands shake and my mind spin and i—" your breath hitched, a sob catching in your throat, but you pushed through it, voice trembling. "i hated you for it. or at least... i thought i did."

you felt him stiffen, barely perceptible, but you noticed it. of course, you noticed it. your lips quivered, your hands clenched, and you forced yourself to take a step forward, closing even the slightest bit of distance between you. "but it wasn’t hate, was it? it never was," you whispered, voice softer now, gentler, but heavy with the weight of every unspoken word you had swallowed down over the years, every moment you had ignored, every glance you had forced yourself to look away from.

"it was fear."

you sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly against the tears threatening to spill over. "you saw through me. you knew me—really knew me—even when i didn’t want you to," another step, another shaky breath. "and i hated that. i hated that no matter how much i tried to convince myself you were nothing more than a rival, a nuisance, an annoying presence in my life, i—" you exhaled sharply, voice breaking, barely holding yourself together, "i was wrong."

you were right in front of him now, so close, yet still, he hadn’t moved. he just stood there, staring at you, silent, unreadable, unflinching.

"i was wrong about everything," your voice wavered, barely above a whisper now, but the words carried the weight of everything—of every mistake, every regret. your fingers twitched at your sides before, finally, finally, you found the courage to reach out, grasping his wrists once more with trembling hands.

"i never should've left that night," you choked out, shaking your head, tears clinging to your lashes. "i should’ve turned back, should’ve looked at you, should’ve realized what was right in front of me." a single tear slipped down your cheek, warm against your skin, but you didn’t wipe it away. "i should’ve told you then," you hesitated, voice cracking, "i should’ve told you that it was always you."

the words shattered from your lips like glass, like something irreparable, something fragile and delicate and painfully, unbearably sincere. "it was always you, taehyun." your voice trembled, thick with emotion, thick with everything you had locked away for so long, and yet, for the first time, you weren’t afraid to say it. "and i’m so, so sorry it took me this long to see it." you sniffled, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart, a weight lifting off your shoulders with every word that had finally, finally escaped your lips. yet, despite the relief that came with your admission, fear still gripped you, sinking its claws into your chest, twisting deep. because this—this was the part that terrified you the most. not the confession, not the rawness of your emotions spilling over, but his response. what he might say. how he might look at you now. how he might—

taehyun moved.

and for a split second, panic seized you as he pulled away from your grasp, slipping from your trembling hands. your breath hitched, your body tensed, and your mind raced with the worst possibilities, already bracing for the moment he’d turn his back on you. already dreading the sharp sting of rejection. but he didn’t leave. he didn’t take a step back, didn’t let the silence stretch too long, didn’t let the space between you grow. instead, taehyun lifted his hands, reaching for you, cupping your tear-streaked cheeks in the warmth of his palms, grounding you in the way only he ever could.

your lips parted, a sharp breath escaping as his thumbs brushed over your damp skin, gentle, deliberate, erasing the remnants of your sorrow with the softest touch. your eyes widened, searching his face, drinking in the features you had spent so long memorizing yet never truly allowing yourself to admire.

and then, without a word, taehyun reached for the ribbon of your mask, fingers curling around the delicate material before he carefully, slowly, undid the knot and lifted it away.

your breath caught, the cool night air brushing against your now-exposed skin, and before you could react, he let the mask slip from his fingers, the sound of it hitting the ground barely registering in your ears.

but taehyun wasn’t done.

with the same tenderness, the same certainty, he lifted one hand to his own mask, unfastening it, letting it fall to the earth beside yours. and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. not the small, hesitant smiles you had seen him give in passing, not the careful, guarded ones he wore when he was unsure, not the polite ones he had offered in fleeting moments. no. this was real. genuine. a smile that stretched across his face, lighting up his features, reaching his eyes in a way you had forgotten was possible.

"that’s it?"

his voice was warm, teasing, laced with something light and playful—something unmistakably him.

and the moment you heard it, the moment you saw that expression on his face, it was as if every last bit of fear, every last trace of doubt, melted away.

a breath of laughter left you, a mix of relief and disbelief, and before you could even think, before you could hesitate, before you could convince yourself otherwise, you surged forward—hands finding his face, fingers threading into his hair as you pulled him in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was everything.

the moment your lips crashed against his, it was as if something had burst open—years of pent-up emotions, unsaid words, restless nights, stolen glances, all unraveling in a single heartbeat. and taehyun kissed you back like he, too, had been waiting for this his entire life.

his hands, still cradling your face, tightened their grip, fingers digging into your skin as if he was terrified you might slip away again. but you weren’t going anywhere. not anymore. your hands slid up to his jaw, trembling, desperate, pulling him impossibly closer. the sheer warmth of him, the way he exhaled shakily against your lips—it was dizzying. intoxicating. you were drowning, and you never wanted to come up for air.

the kiss was frantic, a collision of breaths, sighs, and need. his lips moved against yours like he had something to prove, something to make up for, something he couldn’t put into words—but you understood. you understood in the way his hands fell from your face to your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress, gripping like he needed something to hold on to, something to anchor him. you understood in the way he let out a shuddering breath when you tugged at his hair, when your fingers slipped into the strands, when your body pressed flush against his.

a sharp exhale left taehyun, something like a laugh, something breathless and wrecked, and then he was kissing you harder, deeper, like he wanted to consume you, like he wanted to make up for every second lost, every moment wasted. and you let him. you let him steal your breath, let him take everything you had to give, because god, you had been starving for this. for him.

his fingers traced up your spine, slow, deliberate, and you shivered at the feeling. it was overwhelming—the heat of him, the taste of him, the way he kissed you like he was afraid you would vanish if he stopped. your back hit the edge of the stone fountain behind you, but neither of you cared, too caught up in the way your mouths moved together, in the sheer desperation between you.

when you finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, gasping for air, taehyun’s grip on you never loosened. his fingers stayed at your waist, his breath fanning over your lips, and when you opened your eyes, his gaze was already on you—dark, burning, fond. taehyun exhaled, a quiet, breathy sound that mingled with the space between you, and when he smiled—soft, real, yours—you felt something in you finally settle.

"so... you like me." he murmured, his fingers curling just a little tighter at your waist, as if he still didn’t quite trust that you were here, that this was real.

you blinked, still dazed, still trying to catch up to everything—everything you had just spilled, everything that had just happened, everything you had just done.

"kang."

"no, no, say it." taehyun grinned, the teasing lilt returning to his voice, but there was something softer beneath it, something almost in awe. "i need to hear you say it."

heat crept up your neck, the weight of his hands still lingering on your skin, his touch burned into your memory. "i just confessed my entire soul to you, what more do you want?"

"just three little words." his voice dropped slightly, his fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your chin up ever so slightly. "for confirmation."

you groaned, tilting your head back, but the fondness in taehyun’s eyes, the warmth in his touch, the way he was looking at you like you were all he needed, it was unfair.

"i like you, taehyun." the words left you in a sigh, as if they had been waiting to escape all along.

"yeah?"

you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed your feigned annoyance. "yeah."

taehyun hummed, looking entirely too pleased with himself before he leaned in again, murmuring against your lips, "about time." “i like you too.”

꒰🧸꒱ @pagelets @hoefororeo @sbnslver @missychief1404 @brrytears @saejinniestar @imlonelydontsendhelp @urlocal-moa @melmochii @jettithink, @killa-1009, @j-ji-jia, @frankghgr, @usuallyunlikelyfox @sxmmerberries @napipope-ta @bamgeutori @xylatox @hyunj00 <3

this is 1/5 from a valentine’s event with other talented and incredible moas! click here to see the full masterlist <3

[summoner-of-mist]

man im having a wanting to die kinda night again :(((((((((

im trying so fucking hard to make friends but i guess i just cant and just gotta die instead

[pedgito]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Lucien De Leon x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | it was never a favor, allowing him to take up space in your apartment. but, time after time, he finds his way back and somehow, it brings an unexpected normalcy to your life.

author's note | in my heart, it's still flores. but canonically its de leon. i had the opportunity to watch the movie and hot take, it was...alright. but pedro's character made me just as feral as i expected. so here's this absolute monster for no reason other than, well, me ovulating.

content warning | 18+ mdni, the uninvited spoilers, set post-movie, roommates to lovers, enemies to lovers, reader works in the film industry, financial hardship, shitty living situations, lucien is a schmooze and a drunk, but also a sweetheart, angst, feelings, reader has shit luck with dating, there's also smut in here somewhere i swear (oral, couch sex, unprotected piv, all the good stuff)

word count — 11k (sorry lmfao)

“Lucien?” You grumble around the chewy granola bar you’ve snatched from the craft table, “Lucien De Leon?”

The agent, Lucien’s agent—James, also working for a few of the on-set cast, looked hopeless.

He nods, squeezing tight at the phone in his hand, one more inconvenience text from snapping it in half.

“No,” You refuse, chewing at the sweet and sticky granola, “why—why me? My tiny apartment?”

“He’s exhausted any other chance,” The agent explains vaguely—yeah, real convincing, this guy, “listen—I like you, you’ve helped me in plenty of binds. It’ll be two weeks before he’s leaving for work, I just need somewhere to keep him for a while.”

“You’re making it seem like I’d be dog sitting or something,” You retort, watching as the agent glanced down at his phone, notifications spilling in, “this is Lucien—controversy magnet, and he’s rude—”

“You’ve gotta get to know him—”

“The one set I’ve worked on with him he spilled my coffee on me and acted like I made him do it. Fuck him, tell him to sleep on a bench.”

“I’ll pay you,” He scrambles, “Just—please?”

You pause, narrowing your gaze. Being a production assistant hadn’t been the life of luxury, minimal pay in an overpriced city in a shitty apartment with barely decent and affordable rent was nothing short of miserable.

“How much?”

“A thousand,” He offers—a shrug of uncertainty follows.

Silence stretches.

“Two thousand? Come on–that’s a thousand for each week.”

“Make it three and you’ve got a deal.”

The agent is quiet for a few seconds before he caves, sighing heavily, “Fuck, fine. Three. Can I drop him off tonight?”

“Tonight?” You balk, “You know, you’re actually the worst.”

His hands grip your shoulders, shaking you with far too much force than needed, “You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

He’s long gone and buried in a phone call before you grumble a disgruntled, “You’re welcome.”

-

You consider later that evening that disclosing the recent…activities around your apartment complex would have been a good idea, especially with someone as high profile as Lucien taking up space in your one bedroom apartment.

Three break-ins in the past two weeks, noisy and unruly neighbors both above and sandwiching you—it wasn’t exactly peaceful or safe, but it was something. 

You wait with a creeping anxiety as you tap your chopsticks against the homemade ramen you’ve made for yourself, one true moment of happiness in the day as you’re finally sitting down to relax, feet aching terribly.

It was coffee runs and constant back and forths over forgotten supplies or paperwork—it was the perfect job to keep you active and on your toes, never sure when someone might blow up on you for whatever reason it may be—you were nothing special, helpful, but when it came down to it, you were more or less in the way, so you often made yourself small out of habit. 

The knock that startles you is hurried, like a panic. It sends your heart rate skyrocketing but your name echoes on the other side of the door, scrambling to open the door, you’re faced with two men.

The agent, James, a decent man despite his unorganized and erratic personality—and Lucien, a piss poor disguise covering his face.

You snort, addressing the ball cap and sunglasses with an amused expression, it was doing nothing to cover the instantly recognizable wispy brown hair of his and aquiline nose—the upcoming king of stage and screen. It was a wonder he even made it here in one piece.

“A natural chameleon,” You joke, widening your door to let them inside—the apartment was clean, thankfully. You’d scramble to get home after work and pick up, given you didn’t have much time to actually prepare, “seriously—get inside before someone clocks you.”

The agent stays though, like his feet were planted.

“He’s all yours,” He tells you, “you’ve got my number—don’t let him leave. I’ll check in when I can. Keep an eye out for paps.”

“Hey, no—” You interject, watching as the agent turned on his heels and departed, “we didn’t agree to—”, turning the corner with a shout of a long, helpless, “that!”

You sigh with a deep frown, turning over your shoulder to find Lucien with a chopstick in hand, noodle dangling from the utensil with a curious face, sniffing it cautiously. 

“Hey!” You chastise, plucking the chopstick from his fingers, “Stop that.”

He looks at you curiously, obviously taken aback by your tone of voice and lack of intimidation by him, like a startled cat.

Jesus, okay.

You force a calming breath through your nose and look up at him, “Would you like some?”

“Is it gluten free?” Lucien inquires, peering over your shoulder at the still steaming hot bowl of soup.

“Actually, yeah,” Your brow furrows, “it—it is.”

“Sure,” He shrugs, beginning to remove his cap and glasses, along with his jacket, resting them haphazardly on the kitchen island as he takes a seat on the only other unoccupied barstool in your kitchen.

“Oh no,” You swiftly rectify his actions, “we’re not doing this—there’s a coat rack for a reason and a shelf by the door for things like,” You walk toward the front door, hand circling the object like a cherished belonging, “keys—sunglasses, hats,” You stress the final two words and point at the items before jutting your thumb frustratingly at the door, “—if you don’t mind, while I make your dinner.”

It was clear he’s spent most of the past several years with people ready and waiting on him, never questioning or ordering around, but it was basic human decency, you weren’t going to allow him to be amiss to it.

He obliges quietly, a surprise to you. You hide the satisfied smirk as you pour the broth into the bowl along with the noodles before placing the bowl on his side of the island, placing another dish near him, scattered with different toppings.

Lucien looks silently intrigued, the ends of his mouth curling down in interest as he sprinkles various toppings over his food, beginning to eat silently as you return to your own meal.

After a long enough silence and Lucien’s occasional slurping you decide to set a hard boundary, given the various personalities you’ve dealt with in the industry, it was you being proactive out of habit.

“Let me be clear, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” You inform him, locking eyes with his intense stare, something you hadn’t forgotten, not since the on-set incident, “This is still my home. Don’t be an asshole about it.”

“James said you were a firecracker,” Lucien smirks slightly, resting his chopsticks along the top of the bowl, “and a little bit of a bitch, but—”

“Good, he hasn’t lost his mind then.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a professional at this shit now. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Highly unlikely, you think.

He even makes a point by grabbing his bowl and emptying it before placing it in the sink before extending his hand out to your own bowl. You watch him wash the dishes, something that looks unnatural, but you aren’t going to complain.

“You always cook like that?” Lucien asks curiously over the running water, head turning over his shoulder briefly.

“No, only Friday. I never have time otherwise, work is…busy,” A generous way to describe it, but Lucien doesn’t seem to care or question, drying off the last dish before extending his hands out by his side in a grand gesture.

Maybe he was expecting a roaring applause, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You offer him a genuine thank you but it doesn’t extend beyond that before you’re trailing a few feet over toward the living room, a clean pillow and blanket draped over the couch, along with a fitted sheet if he felt like using it. It was all unmade, allowing him to set it up himself.

“Also,” You clasp your hands together at your front, “James didn’t mention this because I didn’t tell him but we’ve had a string of break-ins for a while now, so—always keep the deadbolt locked. Please.”

His eyes widen, looking around the apartment for the quickest escape. You were on the seventh floor, the only other escape option was a less than reliable balcony that you barely used.

“I have a bat,” You tell him, before pointing toward the door beside the entrance, “in the shoe closet, but I think we’re okay.”

“Think?”

You shrug, “It hasn’t happened yet, but the police have shit response time around here.”

Lucien looks overwhelmed, but nods.

“Oh, and the neighbors like to have really loud sex—walls are thin. Have fun.”

“No puedo creer esta mierda—” He mumbles under his breath as you turn your back, a sharp flap of a sheet, and a short laugh from you follows.

“Blame your agent, Lucien.”

He didn’t think you’d understand him, but your astute hearing proved otherwise. 

Lucien was putting on an act with his gesture, clearly. 

He doesn’t respond, pouting his way through the process of setting up his new bed for the next couple weeks in silence, ignoring the soft click to your door as you turn in for the night, the creeping and soft city noises filtering in through the thin apartment walls.

It wouldn’t be an easy night but he's never really liked big, empty houses anyways.

—

The weekend is uneventful; you fear it might be a dream, too good to be true, a complete fluke.

Maybe he had a change of heart overnight, but Lucien is overly polite.

He deconstructs his bed both mornings, packing it away in a corner of the living room, listening to the television at a reasonable volume with fresh coffee in the coffee pot, he cleans up his dishes and leaves a marginal mess. 

The real kicker—he has the ability to keep the toilet seat down with your now shared bathroom attached to your bedroom, a real…gentleman. 

You eyed him suspiciously most of the day, when he’s unaware and preoccupied, wondering when the facade would drop. Does he even remember the coffee incident? 

He had to, right?

He approaches with a silent gesture of his emptied cup as you fill your own.

Fine—you pull the cup from his grip and fill it to the brim, sliding it back over carefully.

He sips gingerly as he raises it to his lip before speaking, “S’good coffee.”

“Thanks,” You answer nonchalantly, pouring a generous amount of sugar and cream into your coffee and stirring, watching as the dark black lightened into a soft brown, “are you a coffee guy?”

“I’m an anything guy,” Lucien responds, “but—good, it’s good. I’m impressed.”

“Why?” You ask with a little more bark than needed, a flippant tone rounding out your morning irritation as you readied for work. “Are you—you really don’t remember, do you?”

Lucien raised his eyebrows in question, expectant.

“Your last job, up in Hollywood Hills. You spilled coffee all over me, blamed me, then got me suspended for a week, because of your outburst. I barely managed rent that month”

His eyes narrow, recollecting the thought like he’d been stricken with temporary amnesia.

“You’re all so much of the same, y’know?” You continue, sipping generously from your cup as his face relaxes, following your movements with a casual glance. “Cocky, egotistical, little dicked men. Without me you wouldn’t have that ridiculous fifteen dollar hyper whateverthefuck water you insisted you needed in your trailer, or your dry cleaning? God forbid. Seriously, fuck you.”

“Wait—” Lucien staunches, hold his hand up in pause, “hold on—”

You wait for approximately half a second before you roll your eyes, pushing beyond him to gather your bag and keys, “You know, I don’t need a disingenuous apology. I’m not doing this as a favor. I’m being paid.”

James had lied to him, that much he was figuring out as he processed the situation. You weren’t someone offering up free charity, a helping hand for a starving actor in need—except that wasn’t the case for him. Despite his team's careful guidance; he was a repeat offender of bad choices and money management, a part-time alcoholic, and a serial flirt. He knew how to play his hand and he was good at it, but with you—it was clear that you were a challenge.

But, it was only a couple weeks. He could survive that. He was a people person first and foremost and he’d charm the hell out of you if given the opportunity. 

“James said he’d be by in an hour to pick you up for your meetings today—lock the door when you leave. Please.”

Still speechless, he watches you leave with a stiff, crisp shut of the door.

He couldn’t remember, racking his brain for one incident after another. His own fair share made him cringe in hindsight, but he…couldn’t remember. He’d almost hoped you were a fresh face, leaving him free of judgment, but it was clear that this situation was about pure survival.

-

“You did do that,” James confirmed to him as they left the first brand meeting that morning, “It was the morning of the big awards show—you remember?” He doesn’t wait for Lucien’s response, continuing, “Poor kid got her ass chewed out and had to take a trip to the clinic for the burns. It was…a mess. Never cried, though. I’ll give her that.”

And, like a strike of a match, it floods back. You’re shocked expression, mouth slightly agape as the sting of pain settled in, bracing for the impact of Lucien’s wrath because you knew. A man allergic to accountability, oozing power, it was almost too easy.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Apologies seem pointless now, but it could help. But…be genuine.”

“I’m genuine.”

James gives him a certain look, one that argues otherwise.

“I am.”

Only time would tell, really.

By the end of your work day, it was with great relief as you stepped through the door of your apartment until you remembered one fine detail you had told Lucien more than once.

Lock the door.

The eeriness hits you as the door clicks shut behind you, the place falling into a dead silence for a brief moment, your bag hitting the counter as you maneuvered your keys between your fingers, ready to take on what you could with what little strength you had to offer.

Just maul their face off, that seemed like the best option.

You count the seconds in your head, breath held tight and constricted in your chest. You quickly check the available pathways—living room, kitchen, before slipping down the hall, left with the only room to flee if not away from your apartment.

Bedroom light off, not a thing out of place, pristine even—but your eyes track toward the bathroom light seeping underneath the gap in the door. With careful, measured movements you approach the door although you haven’t thought through the actual process of what you wanted to do.

But, before you can react the door is swinging open as the bathroom is plunged into darkness, revealing a sopping wet Lucien, towel tied tight around his waist as he slings a smaller one over his shoulders, completely relaxed until he spots you.

Both of you scream—you out of anger and fear, Lucien at the incoming hand that he snatches by the wrist, your eyes landing on each other, your nostrils flaring in frustration.

“You’re insane!” Lucien shouts, shoving your hand away, “You nearly tore my face off.”

“I thought you were an intruder,” You seethe, “—what kind of maniac showers with the front door unlocked while home alone?”

“You said you had a bat,” Lucien excuses, “I could have defended myself.”

You sigh, plucking the keys from your grip before you toss them on your bed, stepping away from Lucien and away from the radiating heat of his body as it glistened, obnoxiously.

“Get out,” You snap, “get out—go—”

“I was just gonna…grab my clothes and come change in,” He weakly gestures toward the bathroom, earning a sharp look of distaste in his direction, “alright—alright, Jesus.”

He pauses for a moment, though. Before the lightbulb clicks on and he’s scrambling into the living room and back in record time, shoving a small white envelope into your hands.

“What is this?” You ask tensely, blindly ripping at the seal as you stare at him.

“It’s uh—what I owe you, for the coffee thing. I…I remember now. Figured I could pay you for the work I made you miss…is that about right?”

You peer at the wad of cash. It was indeed, enough.

“You’re unbelievable,” You reply, shaking your head.

It gives him false hope, wondering if it was all going to be brushed under the rug and that he could continue the rest of his stay in a somewhat semblance of peace, but then your expression flips and oh…that’s not…

“Are you physically incapable of saying the words “I’m sorry”—would it kill you? Allergic to accountability? God, you know what, I’m gonna call James and tell him I just can’t do—”

“No,” Lucien panics, hand around your bicep as you attempt to push past him, immediately recognizing the fierceness of his grip he loosens it, calms himself, “no—please, listen…I…I didn’t think you’d care enough to hear it. I do remember now and I was a dick, I was trying to offer a gesture of good faith. Peace, even?”

“Is this even your money?” You ask curiously, brow furrowed as you help up the envelope.

“Yeah, yeah—I pulled it out of my savings. Why? Do you…not want it?”

You quickly snatch the envelope away, “No, I’ll take it. But, words mean a lot. Like calling me an ignorant little bitch.”

“Okay, okay. I am sorry. I had a lot going on and I know that isn’t an excuse either, but I am.”

You tilt your head in examination, peering through the raw emotion on his face, whether he was putting on a masterclass in acting or not, it was believable enough. You could remain bitter, even if it meant suffering in silence, but you liked the peace just as much as he, so you compromise.

“You still have to get out,” You inform him, walking your fingers tauntingly toward the door, “and I swear, Lucien, if you used all the hot water—”

-

Lucien was insistent about rehearsing at least five hours a day, even on weekends. Luckily, most of those days you were spared, but when you’re barricaded away in your bedroom, sound travels. And Lucien doesn't care much to stifle his performance, maybe it was a weapon to backfire at your inconsiderate neighbors, but it was driving you insane.

He’s stuck on one scene, clearly a building tension that explodes and apparently he can’t nail, having heard the lines a hundred times over through the muffled walls—your first instinct was to complain, tell him take it elsewhere, but you remember your deal with James. Lucien just needed a place to stay for a while and this was his job.

Eventually, you poke your head through your bedroom door with a cautious expression, watching Lucien examine his face in the mirror, filing through various emotions before he finally gives up, tossing the script against the counter.

He spots you as he turns, already gearing up to apologize or maybe even excuse—but instead, you speak.

“Is it for an audition?”

“How’d you know?”

“The yelling, the emotion—I guess? I help on set with self tapes from time to time. I’ve learned to spot the difference between just memorizing lines and trying to feel the script.”

Lucien pushes his lips out in thought, tongue rolling over his teeth as his hands settle against his hips, pushing the sweatpants lower on his hips as he stands, deliberating.

“Just ask,” You tell him.

“You any good?”

It was a genuine question, not meant to attack your own ego. Besides, it makes you laugh.

“I’ll get your good side,” You promise him, surfacing from your room as you beckon for his phone with your hand, getting straight to work.

It only takes a few minutes to find a solid place to set up, against one of your cream colored walls, pictureless and plain, but with ample lighting from inside and out, it highlighted the wispy grays in Lucien’s untamed curls hanging over his forehead, the wrinkles creasing there as he looked down at the script and examined the text.

“Do you have them memorized?” 

Lucien nods absently, his finger trailing down the side of the paper until it was suddenly gone, snatched from his hands with a smile on your face as you pointed for him to slide into frame. You take a step back, watching the screen with a careful eye before motioning with a finger for him to move a few centimeters to the left, “There. Perfect.”

You flatten out the creased paper as you speak, “From the top?”

Lucien smiles halfheartedly—the stress washing from his face for a moment—and nods.

–

You could keep up, that much was obvious.

Lucien is used to the monotone voice on the other side of the camera during auditions, forced tones and half-cocked emotion, it was hard to act against and with, but he’s learned to push through for the sake of a role. 

It was an emotional scene, almost a requirement to have that intensity to act against and Lucien caught your eye line at one point, face buried in the script as you uttered the lines with teary eyes, letting your own emotion fill you to the brim and flow out, giving him a real and authentic reaction to act against.

He watched it back with a grin, mostly out of his own cocky admiration for himself but the secret you’ve been hoarding, a welcome surprise.

“Have you never considered acting?” Lucien asks curiously, emailing the video off to his agent.

“Cameras are daunting,” You shrug, folding and filing away some freshly washed towels as Lucien reclined on your couch, “I prefer being behind them.”

“You’re a natural,” He offers honestly, “that’s really rare.”

You shake your head in amusement as you riffled through the unfolded laundry, separating in different piles until you come across a no longer white blouse, stained a soft pink—and of course, Lucien. It was Lucien who offered to take laundry down the night prior, needing a moment away from being cooped up in the apartment, swearing he had it under control.

“I told you not to put this in the wash load with the colors! Look at this—” You held up the obviously stained blouse, crumpling up the fabric and tossing it to the couch with a frustrated huff.

“To be fair, it’s been years since I did my own laundry,” Lucien responds casually, “—don’t worry, I’ll have James buy you another.”

Your face twitches, actually twitches.

“No, no—it…it’s fine. It’s only a shirt,” You tuck a loose hair behind your ear as you heave the towels into your arm, “just—whites and colors, always separate them.”

And while living with Lucien had mellowed out some, it was still tumultuous at times.

Fighting over the bathroom was a regular occurrence, both of you guilty. But, that could be worked through, it wasn’t the end of the world. Occasionally it was the lights, a bad habit of Lucien’s to leave them lingering in his wait, lamps and fixtures, nothing was safe. Opened cabinets, items forgotten and out of place. It was all tedious and frustrating, picking and choosing your battles as they came, brushing far too much under the rub for the sake of peace.

You knew it was almost over, enjoying a quiet night to yourself while Lucien was apparently out at dinner—you weren’t sure, you didn’t really care, but you enjoyed the glimpse of what was to return to you, tucked away on the couch while half-dressed, hand stuffed into a freshly popped bowl of popcorn.

It was Friday and your neighbors never failed to come home from a rowdy night of partying with everything but sleeping on their mind, getting straight to business and your grab for the remote was immediate, turning up the volume to drown out the obnoxious moans and groans of drunk sex happening on the other side of the wall.

Lucien arrives back somewhere near the middle of the movie, the soft laughs from you pulling his attention to the couch as he clocked the nineties rom-com on the television, your cheek resting against your balled up fist, placing his wallet against the counter to signal his entrance.

“Loud enough for you?” Lucien jokes, approaching the singular piece of furniture in your living room, fingertips pressing against the arm of the couch as he takes in your appearance, shirt barely reaching beyond mid-thigh, thick socks keeping you warm as you curled in on yourself, careless that Lucien was definitely looking you make a noise in question, the words processing in a delayed manner.

You reach for the remote, pausing the movie briefly to reveal the reason; the insistent thump of wood against cheap sheetrock and moans, squealy and high-pitched, forcing a raised eyebrow from Lucien that needed no words.

“Nevermind,” He concedes,hands thrown up in defeat with a chuckle hidden behind his teeth, walking closer to examine the screen, filing through his internal rolodex of films and drawing a blank.

“Are you going to keep standing there like a total weirdo or are you going to watch the movie?” You ask with a joking tone, tucking your feet underneath you as you made room, glancing down at your phone as a notification brought the screen to life.

Lucien catches the faint tug of a smile on your face as you type away, clicking the phone into sleep mode a few moments later before continuing the movie without a word.

You’re not sure which one of you succumbs to sleep first, but it didn’t matter, finding that you both aligned together easily as you slept, covered with a blanket that Lucien must have snatched somewhere near without disturbing you—and when you wake in the middle of the night, complex quiet throughout, you can’t even find it in you to move.

–

Lucien’s length of stay was diminishing quickly and you were relieved, only a few more days and things would be back to normal, you’d be three thousand dollars richer, and you wouldn’t have to confront the fact that Lucien wasn’t entirely as bad as he seemed, temper aside.

You’re both on your way out the door on a weekday morning when you spot him, navy blue hoodie draping his body, one you favored because of its size and comfortability.

“That’s mine,” You utter as you’re fisting your keys into your hand and tucking a makeup applicator away in your bag, “that’s…mine—why is it on your body?”

Lucien looks down, perplexed. He could’ve swore…

“It’s mine, I swear,” You’re peering over his shoulder and pulling at the collar, examining the tag by his neck, or lack thereof—you always cut them out, hated the feeling against your skin.

“It’s mine,” You say with finality, “But, it’s fine. I’ve been meaning to replace it anyways. And now that you’ve worn it, definitely.”

“Ouch,” Lucien chuckles, shaking his head at your bluntness, “I guess I deserve that. I did think it was mine, though. Swear. Must’ve gotten mixed up somehow.”

 “Oh, well, just burn it now—oh, shit, before I forget,” You point your finger at his chest, stopping him in his tracks, “I’ve got a date tonight. I’ll more than likely be gone when you get back here. I’m leaving a key under the mat, you know the deal. Respect it…protect it like you give a shit if anything happens, it’s all I have.”

“Date?” Lucien teases, “Sounds—”

“We’re not doing this,” You cut him short, finger raising higher in reprimand, “don’t do that.”

Again, Lucien values his well-being, so he admits defeat. 

It was difficult for him, his eagerness to please and charm, to command the conversation and impress—but with you, it was impossible. Truly, it was mesmerizing to him.

It was several hours later when Lucien arrived at the apartment, pointedly locking the door behind him as you had reminded him several times—he wasn’t completely aloof.

His orders takeout on a whim, disguised under a fake name and the careful directions to leave at the door, having practiced the art of subtly when it came to laying low, enjoying a couple beers from a pack James had bought him as a small celebration for a week of good, decent meetings. 

Things had been looking up recently and it made Lucien unsettled in a way, but thankful nonetheless, sipping at the beer generously and relaxing well into the night, dusk turning to black skies and few twinkling star lights, drowned out by the thick smog of city pollution. It started raining eventually, a soft pattern picking up gradually and he, for natural reasoning, is slightly concerned. So, he stays up despite some lingering exhaustion, barely hitting a quarter beyond eight o’clock when the door handle rattles, soft curses on the other side of the door that send him to his feet, peering through the peephole to spot a sufficiently blurry outline of you.

And what he opens the door to is not what he’s expecting, although, he wasn’t even sure what he was expecting in the first place, but this…it wasn’t it.

You were wet, clothes dripping and rain water pooling at your feet, everything sticking to you like an uncomfortable glue, cold and shivering, your bottom lip trembling.

Without thinking, Lucien shifts into action. 

He doesn’t ask a single question, not at first. Silently pulling the items off of you as you allow him; keys and purse first, clanging against the counter before he’s pulling your coat of, blouse, even kneeling down to remove your shoes before he’s carrying the clothes to the bathroom with you in tow, turning on the shower until it was steaming up the mirrors, heat radiating through the room as you pulled at the button of your jeans weakly, fumbling with cold and feeble hands.

He holds his hands up, careful not to approach in a way that would startle you or force you into attack mode, which seemed unlikely with the disheartened look on your face and he asks quietly, “Do you need help?”

You’re quiet for a long, tense moment before you nod, trying to quell the full body shivers as he assists you in stripping down to your underwear, also soaked. He pulls the curtain back and helps you over the side of the tub with the solid weight of his hand and speaks again despite your silence, “I’ll wait in your room—do you need anything?”

It doesn’t take a genius to piece things together as Lucien settles against the edge of the bed and it angers him for some forlorn reason, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time. When the shower cuts off, he straightens, hesitates—should he leave? 

You’d want privacy, right? Yeah. No, definitely.

He rises to his feet without another thought, his awful timing sending you straight into his chest as you swung the door open, towel snug around your body and smelling sharply of fresh, citrus body wash.

“S-sorry,” You stammer out, “you don’t—you don’t have to wait around, Lucien. Or give a shit, either. I don’t expect you to and I don’t care—”

It was unusually cold. He’s become familiar with your snark, that sharp and cunning personality, but this was different. This was a push, a defense of hard and impenetrable walls building up before his eyes and he speaks without thinking, hoping that it slips through the cracks.

“Regardless, I’ll listen,” Lucien provides—it wasn’t an overwhelming expression of fake, forced care or, god forbid, love. But, it was a raw enough response that it grabs your attention, “—if you want me to.”

—

He cranked up the heat while you dressed, flipped open his leftover takeout, and listened. You weren’t used to this and for a while, you were half-expecting him to find a way to turn the situation on himself, a sob story for a sob story. But, he doesn’t.

“This sushi…” You savor the taste, eyes falling closed.

“Good, isn’t it?” Lucien smirks, popping another into his mouth with careful precision, chopsticks in hand.

You could cry, it was such a strong and startling feeling that it caught you off-guard, “Yeah, really good.”

You clear your throat, tears shoved aside, “Have you ever ditched a date before?”

Lucien shakes his head with a subtle frown.

“Right, Lucien De Leon,” You respond jokingly, that magical emphasis around his name, “any woman would be dying for all of….this,” You gesture to him lazily with a faux disgust that couldn’t even be forced, both of you divulging into a laugh.

“Hey, you said it,” Lucien shrugs with a pointed wink that you shouldn’t find so attractive, but the natural charm he emits makes it impossible, “—but, no. Can’t say I have.”

“Even the ones who wouldn’t put out?”

“At the risk of sounding like an asshole—“ Lucien begins, but you follow the rhythm of the conversation and it isn’t long before the lightbulb strikes on and you’re nodding.

“Right, you probably don’t have an issue in that department. Stupid question, sorry.”

You pluck the last piece of sushi off the styrofoam and chew, speaking behind your hand, “I should’ve known that dude was a prick, only stared at my tits the entire date.”

Out of reflex, his eyes drag to your chest and you click the movement in an instant, “Not helping,” You warn him lightly, “I guess I was too blunt, he kept…touching me. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable going back to his place, he made some excuse to go to the bathroom and I waited for a half hour. Until the server came by with the bill—so, not only did he ditch me, I paid a hundred dollar tab and I didn’t even eat my food.”

Even in Lucien’s wild days, he couldn’t imagine doing that. Not when he was drinking more heavily, partying, hooking up on a daily basis—before his first failed marriage, it was foreign to him. 

“You could’ve called me, or James, shit—an uber.”

“Phone died,” You shrug lamely, “it doesn’t matter, anyways. And don’t get me wrong, casual sex—it’s fine, but I got too hopeful, I guess. All men are the same.”

“Come on,” Lucien jests, “that’s not fair.”

“Fine, enlighten me, then.”

“You can’t expect fairytale shit—I mean, I’m one failed marriage and plenty of missteps in my life. Do you think I’m a bad guy?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” 

Lucien sighs in defeat, scratching at his mused hair as he tosses the empty food container aside.

“I’m fucking with you,” You offer in a quieter tone—even if you weren’t friends with him, he didn’t have to put in the effort to help or listen, but he was, ��I’m—just, thank you.”

“I’m in good graces now?” Lucien asks curiously, that playful mischief gracing his face with a smile.

You make a motion with your hand from your head as you grab, like pulling a thought and throwing it away, “Coffee incident? Forgotten—unless you pull some heinous shit.”

“You know, I might actually miss this,” His finger does a swirling motion, encompassing your living room, “you—eh,” a shaky hand motion that earns a jab to his thigh from your foot, “shit, ouch—that was a joke.”

“I know,” You concede with a smirk, “—I won’t, though. I want my couch back. And my bathroom.”

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re a catch,” He tells you, “although, I do like the ones that bite, so—“

You reach forward this time, swatting playful at his chest with the back of your hand, but his fast reflexes beat you, your fingers smacking into solid rings.

He snickers softly and examines the grimace on your face as you pull back, “Pobrecita,” He coos mockingly, reaching for your hand and pressing a gentle kiss against the skin, “see what I mean?”

You ignore the heat that strikes through your body like a freshly lit match, pulling your hand away with a distinct eye roll. 

He’d be gone soon and this would all be a ridiculous memory to think back on. 

There was no room for newly evolving feelings, or worse, infatuation. 

—

The three months you spend falling back into your normal routine is monotonous, safe, but the kind of security that has you itching for change. You find yourself checking on Lucien more often than you should, regular social media checks, the occasional subtle question to James when you happened to catch him on set. It wasn’t healthy, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

He did seem more erratic, often coming across other quick clips and social media stories of him at the club during waking hours, pure reckless abandon, he was having the time of his life—you couldn’t blame him, but it was…slightly alarming.

It was a Saturday night when all hell broke loose, police sirens raining down the street as you raced to your open window, peering down at the obscured face of a man in cuffs as he was roughly shoved into a police car before there’s a pounding knock at the door, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest at the sound.

Turning on your heels and swinging the door open, you can’t help but find yourself speechless at the sight.

“Think they caught your burglar,” Lucien notes under his baseball cap, eyes catching the cascading red and blue lights outside your window, duffel bag at his feet and a regretful look on James’ face.

You tilt your head at the discovery, your brain working overtime before your eyes widen.

“Just hear him out,” He pleads with prayer like hands, phone sandwiched between two begging palms, “Lucien—go,”

Lucien seems to stutter-step in his mind, not expecting to be the one leading this proposition as he side-eyes James, “I…need a place to stay…again,” Lucien squints his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, looking almost embarrassed, “for the next six months.”

“No,” You nearly shout out incredulously, “the first time wasn’t a trial run.”

There’s a long moment of tense eye contact and uncertainty.

An underlying worry in your gut at the sight of Lucien, a little worse for wear but still mostly himself, gripping tightly at his carry-on bag in his hand, thumb rubbing nervously at the leather strap.

Goddammit.

–

He’s paying the entire six months of rent he planned on staying there while he filmed for a movie they were shooting a short ten minute drive from your complex, a quaint little studio gracious enough to let the crew film free of charge—he’d given you the whole spiel, in one ear and out the other still wondering how you’ve tangled yourself in this web again.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” You inquire, helping him file away some of his clothes in a drawer you had emptied out for him like this was normal. He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment with his lips pursed together, tired sunken eyes staring back at you, “Why not get your own apartment? A house? I mean, you’ve got the money?”

Lucien clears his throat, scratching at his neck where it jostles his chains, fingers slipping under the silk fabric of his shirt, “I, uh—feel weird…livingalone,” He rushes out, quickly turning to grab more clothes as you stand, hand placed against the top of your dresser as your brow furrows, feeling like you’d just fallen deaf.

“Come again?”

A small huff as Lucien passes a stack of expensive shirts, material that had to be ethically sourced or…some bullshit like that, he’s told you the story before in passing.

“I don’t like living alone, ‘s why I float,” He offers lamely, tossing the empty duffel into the corner of your room—you’d pick it up later, it didn’t matter, “I left all my old stuff to my ex-wife, it was easier that way.”

Often you had to remind yourself that Lucien was older, nearing his late forties while you were still managing through your late twenties, a big thirty on the horizon.

It dawns on you then that you don’t know much about Lucien at all outside of tabloids and gossip sites, the rumor mills running through Hollywood—you often find yourself reminding you of the fact he was still a person, with troubles, clearer now more than ever.

“It wasn’t always like this,” He assures you, “I’m a fuckin’ mess, I already know.”

“I think we’re beyond judgment, Lucien,” You assure him, “You saw me sobbing and nearly naked—just keep this place clean, like you give a shit about it, alright?”

Lucien nods dutifully, “Yes, ma’am.”

–

You learn quickly that his long term stay meant that little quirks were beginning to surface—always organizing your things out on the sink opposite of his own, a small gesture that didn’t go unnoticed when you were rushing out the door on days he wasn’t given a call time. Or how he always made sure there was food waiting when he arrived before you—takeout or not. He wasn’t a great cook, but he could manage.

In turn, you tried to cook more often. And he loved to hover, but not with a homey, warm feeling that made you feel safe, rather like a curious dog nipping at your ankles. And more so, he would finish his own plate before looking cautiously at your own before you nod, allowing him to pick from your plate with a greediness that made you giggle under your breath.

“My ex-wife never cooked,” He had told you once, “I mean, she tried—but she was terrible. And this,” His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he steps at the homemade ravioli, “is there anything you can’t do?”

“Say no, apparently,” You gave him a solid once-over, a look from head to toe—he’s never offended anymore, taking the playful jest in stride, it had already been a month and it was beginning to feel like normal, again, having him there.

Your conflicting schedules meant a lot of time away from each other, which wasn’t bad. It almost helped more than you expected and while your apartment wasn’t well-fit for a roommate, Lucien made the place feel less empty.

You couldn’t say it out loud, but you were starting to understand the charm. You could see beyond the facade and the persona—a troubled man with ambition, purpose, but a mountain of struggles. The drinking wasn’t a surprise, nor his uptick in smoking. He always smoked out the window so the smell wouldn’t permeate, but the drinking started to become…an issue. 

It wasn’t that Lucien couldn’t handle himself when he drank, but he often did it to fill the dead time—so he said—when you were still at work, fighting with his own demons in his mind. He always ended up on your bed those nights, curled up in a fetal position at the wrong end and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move him, draping a blanket over him before you decided to spend the night on the couch. It was a weekly occurrence after a while, slowly growing in frequency.

He always apologizes, tells you he won’t do it again, but eventually you find yourself melding around him, sleeping in a way that keeps you comfortable and doesn’t disturb him. You don’t judge him, don’t think any lower of him—but there was concern and Lucien could see it growing with every passing conversation as the weeks dragged along. 

By the third month, the dam breaks.

You don’t sugarcoat anything for him either.

“Do you need rehab?” You ask bluntly, watching him peel the gold-flaked under eye patches from his face, shoulder leaned against the doorframe, “Or, like, therapy?”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” He defends, washing his hands under the warm water, “I can get sober if I wanna, but it helps with the stress, you know?”

“No,” You respond honestly, but softly, “I don’t. Unless this is just some big excuse for you to sleep in my bed, which if it is—”

Lucien chuckles, toweling his hands dry, “You caught me.”

“You would tell me if it was getting bad, wouldn’t you?”

It seemed like the least he could do, considering how greatly you were carrying the burden for him by allowing him to stay in the comfort of your own home, treating him like a human. You ignored the tabloids anymore, always negative and nefarious toward him, like he wasn’t allowed to make a few mistakes along the way. He had to be perfect, given his troubling start in the industry. DUIs, cheating, eventually settling down to marry but that didn’t work out great for him either—you’d done some research lately, out of pure curiosity to understand what he wasn’t always willing to share, but you preferred to hear it from him.

Lucien squeezes at your chin in a comforting manner that makes you grimace in feigned disgust, forcing a gentle laugh through your nose as he answers, “Yes, I would.”

–

When he should, he doesn’t. 

Award season was approaching and work was hectic, Lucien had wrapped on his next project and his previous one was gearing for a big release and line of promos, which meant Lucien had to be on his game.

The lamp in your living was broken, a shattered glass bottle on the floor beside it, a trail of clothes following to your room and a heat in the apartment that was sweltering in a way that had you stripping down immediately to the thinnest layer you could manage without getting to your underwear, jeans and a thin strapped top as you walked barefoot toward your room.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting or hoping for, but it isn’t this.

He’s naked, completely bare, save for the blanket draping his groin to save his modesty, out cold but skin obviously clammy, reeking of alcohol and sweat and you can’t help scrambling to the floor, unable to form any type of tangible sound. You check for a pulse, fearing that you might have just found yourself in an inescapable scandal, but it was there. That soft thump, thump, thump under your fingertips before you press the back of your hand to his skin and despite the sweat, he’s cold. He must have sweat out most of the alcohol in his system, your eyes dragging to the forgotten bottle on the ground.

You sigh, eyes falling closed as you gather your thoughts. You devise a plan, slow and methodical—first was to clean, grabbing the clothes and broken glass from the ground, leaving no trace of his mayhew before you’re returning to your room and straight for the bathroom, immediately turning on the cold water, the stream forceful as it pushed through the showerhead.

“Fuck,” You curse to yourself as you glance at Lucien who is mostly dead-weight, struggling to understand how you can get him from one point to another—with another quiet huff you approach him, shifting until you can get your arms under his armpits and heave him up, blanket falling from his waist as you yelp, eyes shooting toward the ceiling as you continue to drag his slumped body toward the tub, “okay—god, Lucien, you fucking owe me.”

It takes some maneuvering and the unbelievability that you are so incredibly close to his bare ass and dick in a way that most would fall over backwards for, regardless of the situation—it felt wrong, seeing him in such a manner and so completely helpless, but you shove the thought aside as you finally get him in the tub, the cold water waking him almost immediately.

It starts with a gasp, a sharp tug of the curtain and coarse, “Shit,” that assures you he was alive and well, coherent, even. A small smile tugs at your lips as you hear him let out a string of curses before he finally settles.

“There’s a bottle of water and some Advil on the counter—take it,” You instruct behind the curtain, “I’m going to grab dinner—try not to hurt yourself, please.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you, not that you expected it. And it doesn’t take long to grab the food either, calling it in and driving there and back in about twenty minutes, finding Lucien freshly showered and sitting on the stool near the counter, eyes telling a story of exhaustion but his insistently bouncing leg telling another.

“Chicken or steak?” You ask nonchalantly, holding the styrofoam containers in both hands.

He takes a moment to answer, unsettled by your calmness, “...steak.”

You hand it over without a question, grabbing a couple drinks before you’re digging in, standing opposite of him rather than sitting, eating in a silence that grows, thickens.

“It’s quiet,” You note the obvious before you scroll through your phone, searching for a soft tune to play through your speakers, something to fill the air, “better—how’s the food?”

“I like it,” Lucien responds with a full mouth, somehow endearing as he swallows and sips at the second water you offered him, attempting to help keep him hydrated, even if it was still annoyingly hot in your apartment, “—I…I think I broke your AC.”

“You did. I��ll put in a work order for it to get fixed,” You answer, a solution to the problem, “are you okay?”

If Lucien was being honest with himself, he can’t remember the last time anyone has asked him that—not genuinely, anyways. He falls silently, biting at his bottom lip in deep thought as his eyes squint, poking quietly at his food.

Talking was hard, you understood that. But, you hoped there was some trust built between you in the past few months, that you hadn’t laid your vulnerabilities out bare the night you came home rain soaked without the ability for him to share too. Plus, he’d broken your favorite lamp.

“It’s complicated,” Lucien diverts, but that doesn’t stop you, eyes lying in wait as you laid your utensil down to listen, “—I’ve got two kids. One, he’s eighteen…awesome, awesome kid. His name is Raynor. I didn’t meet him until a few years back, I’ve been tryin’ take make up for that. We even went on a roadtrip a couple summers back.”

Lucien fiddles with the cap on the water bottle idly, speaking further, “I, the other, my daughter, she’s a couple years old—it was a crazy night with a co-star,” You clock the information immediately, knowing who he was talking about without the confession, and he knew too—it wasn’t exactly a well kept secret in Hollywood as Delia was now married, to another co-star, raising that child, “a long story for another time, but we’re going through this nasty court battle.”

It would explain his financial situation a little, his willingness to take roles as he could, but the growing stress on his face as weeks passed, the tendency to hide or ignore the situation rather than face it—you understood, to a degree. 

“So, all the drinking? The transiency?”

“It just helps,” He shrugs—helps him forget, temporarily, before it all comes barreling back at him, “she wants to revoke shared custody—she’s got her more anyways, with my work and everything, but she wants to deem me unfit, make it—” Lucien’s throat tightens, exactly why he wanted to avoid this conversation entirely, “she wants to erase me and the moment the press gets wind—”

All hell would break loose. 

“Lucien, I don’t think it works that way,” You assure him, even if your knowledge was slim, “there’s…that's your right, she’s your child.”

“Given my history, the judge could consider it,” Lucien replies lackluster, ashamed, “look—I’m sorry to dump this shit on you, I fucked up your apartment, I can find another place to stay and I’ll pay out the rest of the rent like I promised.”

You look at him with a gentle expression, tilting your head until his eyes finally rise, “I asked,” You remind him, “and I hated that lamp anyways, so you did me a favor,” It was a lie, but given his emotional state it was acceptable, watching as he forced a weak laugh, “I’m not kicking you out either, if the media publishes anything about it, you hunker down here. I can deal with a few paps, you know? We do work in the same industry, after all. I may not understand the full scope but I do understand, Lucien.”

He returns a look with sad, red-rimmed eyes as you reach to clean up your shared dinner, before approaching him with a careful few steps, a hand gliding over his bicep and your fingers rubbing at the small dip in the back of neck, your first real initiation of genuine touch. He was a touchy person himself and seemed at ease by the feeling, your lips coming to press a soft kiss against his cheek. Kind, friendly, you pat at his back.

Something changes between that touch and the look he gives you as he turns, eyes flicking toward your lips out of desire, silently he pushes logic aside and leans forward, pulling your chin into his hand like he has before, a familiar touch followed by a foreign one, plush lips against your own that has you swimming in a mix of emotions, eyes falling shut briefly before you realize what was happening, lips parting slightly as the tip of his tongue touches your own before you’re ripping away, eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” You utter out, wishing the words had stayed inside of your head, “I, uh–I’m—”

You stutter relentlessly before you’re scrambling toward your room, door falling shut with a soft click as you sink into your sheets, heart racing uncontrollably and your hands covering your face, unable to face what you had just escaped from as a knock comes a few minutes later on your bedroom door.

You couldn’t face him. You couldn’t.

Eventually, he leaves. Slow footsteps that eventually lead toward another door that closes too, unsure of where he was wandering off to, but you couldn’t think about that, not with the conflicting, battling emotions in your head and chest, a startling yearning coming from just a simple touch.

He was everything you despised—somehow finding level ground, adoring him, caring about him, it was never supposed to go this far. He started as an inconvenience, a disruption to your life…and now, you weren’t sure you could imagine it without him there, in some form.

It takes a couple hours, already deep into your slumber, but the dip of weight in your bed startles you for a moment before the movements stop, the strong press of a back against yours, and an unspoken security that pulls you both under quickly.

He’d gone out drinking again, but at this point, you couldn’t blame him.

–

He awakes to a sweet smell, distinct and fresh. And air, cool air. It can’t be dawn, the sun is too far in the sky to be early morning. Lucien rises with a heavy grogginess, rubbing at his eyes as he finds his footing and walks toward the living room of your apartment, finding your back turned to him as you fiddled with the buttons on your AC as you bid someone goodbye, a man carrying a toolbox descending toward the hallway.

He gears up for an apology, the words balancing on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, you’re in front of him, two filled mugs in hand, coffee just the way he liked.

 And Lucien doesn’t know when or why the feeling overtakes him, but he kisses you again. It isn’t a simple peck. It was full, all-consuming, feet lifting off the ground type of kiss.

No, literally—you rise to your tiptoes as the cups jostle in your grip as two large, warm hands curl around your back and his lips melt against your own, earning a starling gasp that slips through slightly parted lips, followed by his name after a moment too long.

“Coffee, coffee,” You mumbled quickly, “hot—burning, my toes,” Lucien pulled away quickly at the words, watching as the tan liquid pooled at your feet before he rushed to clean up the mess.

You watch with an amused expression before you finally hand the cup of coffee over, “Good morning to you too, I guess,” You smirk, biting down on your cheek to stifle the laugh that was fighting it’s way out, “please don’t tell me you’re still drunk.”

“I need to apologize,” Lucien tells you, “...again—I’m—I’m sorry for kissing you—again, like that, assuming that was something you wanted. I got pulled into the moment—”

You’ve had all night and morning to think it over, mulling over the emotions and feelings, still not quite sure, but you couldn’t help the swirling feeling of nervousness that had grown more frequent in Lucien’s presence, his looks, his flirtatious nature and touches. You were under his spell completely.

And if you didn’t want to kiss him, you would have stopped him.

Besides, you didn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news after his terrible night, having been let go from your job position that morning, no notice—you were still reeling, but didn’t want to burden Lucien with the news.

You needed something else to occupy your mind.

“Drink,” You instruct, taking a seat on the couch as you sip at your coffee in silence, watching as Lucien mirrored your actions and sat at the opposite end, legs out-stretched and his chest on display, tanned skin with neatly trimmed chest hair, soft tummy leading into the charcoaled, stretchy lounge pants leaving little to imagination as he fidgeted in his seat.

“Where’d you go last night?”

Lucien’s face immediately flushes with guilt, “The—a bar. I didn’t drink. I swear, I—”

He makes a small noise of frustration and closes his eyes, “I did something stupid, I needed a distraction, alright? I shouldn’t have kissed you, that’s not what you wanted, I know that.”

With a silent reservation, you press the coffee cup into the table in front of you before slowly make your way toward him on your knees before you pluck the half-empty mug from his grip and return it to a similar spot, feeling a surge of bravery as you climb onto his lap—there’s some underlying stupidity there, you think. But, fuck it.

“You don’t know what I want,” You assure him, fingers dragging along the top of his head before you’re tugging at the stands to tilt his head back, kissing him soundly, sweet dark roast on your shared breaths as you lick into his mouth, the opposite hand pressed flat against his bare chest. It takes a while, but eventually his brain catches up, along with his movements, and his hands curl around your bare thighs, fingertips grazing the silk shorts you wore to bed the night prior, like butter against your soft skin as his fingers climb and dig, pressing into your skin as you continue to discover every inch of him he had to offer—mouth, tongue, neck, chest.

It was a dormant hunger that had awoken after careful thought and pure primal need, tired of waiting things out for perfection when you had something tangible in front of you.

He’s mumbling your name softly as you lean into him, the bottom of your lip dragging against the tip of his nose as he pulls you away, strong hands encompassing your face as he looks at you, searching your glazed over eyes, “What are you doing?” He asks, apparent concern.

“Distracting you,” You tell him, immediately diving back in to kiss him, nipping at his chin playfully, a shaking sigh falling from his lips, “are you distracted?”

He chuckles weakly, “What happened to me being a cocky, egotistical, little dicked man?”

“I can go back to hating you if you want,” You respond, nipping at his ear before you pull back to look at him, so close you can feel his breath against your lips, “If you’re into that sorta thing.”

He could see in your eyes that you needed this too, a way to shut your brain off for a while, months of failed dates you’ve told him all about, in detail, he can’t help but chuckle at your eagerness, stifling a groan as you core grinds against him, cock stiffening with the movement.

“Maybe,” He’s undecided, “we’ll see how this goes.”

You smile wide, feeling a surge of pride as he returns the kiss more fully, a hand twisting around the back of your neck as he kisses you fully, all wet and uncoordinated but it makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“Let me taste you,” He begs, clawing at your top in an attempt to get his hands on your skin, pushing up the fabric as you follow his movements, top off, stripping your shorts down along with your underwear, an eager Lucien gripping at your hips to maneuver you down into the cushion as he hastily shoves the table away with his feet to make room for him on the floor, no reprieve as he hooks your legs over his shoulder and splits his tongue through your folds, licking up the center.

A man of his word, he tastes. Noisily he licks and prods, tongue dipping inside of along with wandering fingers, sucking gently at your clit until you’re yanking at his hair, hand curling over the back of his scalp, fingernails digging into the top of his back, moans spilling from your lips like a flowing river, the rapids rushing through, walls clenching around nothing but cool air as Lucien parts from you, admires. 

He’s got two hands on your thighs to keep you open, “Wider,” He coaxes, your breath quickening as he squeezes at your thighs, “right there, don’t move.”

He shoves his pants down his hips, the heel of his palm rubbing down his shaft as he wraps his fingers around his cock, jerking himself off at the sight of you, glistening and eager, your fingers digging into the cushion fabric—you’ve seen him before, naked, in starkly different context. 

But, he had nothing to be ashamed of, your eyes counting the faint splattering of freckles on his chest as his hand glides over his cock, tugs, thumb sliding over the tip to spread the precum down his shaft and you don’t hear him calling your name until his hand touches your skin, gliding over your knee as he taps, coming to with a weak, “Huh?”

Lucien laughs under his breath before he’s beckoning you closer, pushing up with your palms as he cups his hand under your chin and asks—no, demands, “Spit,” He tells you, following his order without missing a beat, the saliva dripping into his hands as you push it past your lips and he moves closer, knees settled on the plush rug in your living room, guiding you until your ass was nearly hanging off the couch and using your saliva to aid the tug of his cock.

“No condom,” You quickly interject, slightly out of breath. His mouth opens like he wants to respond but you quickly shush him, “we can avoid the spiel, I’m on the pill.”

Lucien shrugs with a cocked smile, “Just checking. You alright?”

You nod eagerly, dying for a reason to shut your mind off.

It was the perfect angle, his hips just level enough with your hips that he slid in with ease, adding his own string of spit into the mix as rubbed it down your cunt and pushed his cock inside—deeper, deeper, the head of his cock sliding against your folds teasingly as he rocks his hips until he’s fully flush inside of you.

Your anxious hands are taken hold by him, curling around his wrists instinctively before they’re being shoved over your head and against the back of the couch, his towering frame leaning over you as his hips piston you at a bruising pace, deep enough that it aches. It’s been long, so long and you feel pathetic for already wanting it so bad, core pulsating with an insatiable need.

His breath is hot, wet against your skin as his teeth graze against your breast, sucking the skin between his teeth as you gasp, “Louder,” Lucien coaxes, “let ‘em hear you. Think they deserve it after all they’ve put us through.”

You laugh at that, full-body and airy, eyes falling shut as Lucien plants a foot against the floor, changing up the angle to an intense degree, his cock slipping out briefly as he adjusts, catching glimpse of the string of shiny slick that connects you both before the thick head of his cock pushes back in, a soft squelch of admittance, a tell-tale sign of your obvious enjoyment.

If he knew this would shut you up, he would’ve tried seducing you months ago—though, he had a feeling the attempts would be futile, he was floating on his own cloud of disbelief that after all his wrong-doings, his missteps, it hadn’t pushed you away.

“Show me—huh, show me what you like,” Lucien pleads through baited breath, hair sticking to his forehead from the sheen of sweat, his own hands leaving yours with the silent promise that you wouldn’t move them, finding purchase underneath your thighs and pushing them up toward your chest, your fingers gripping around the back of the couch in desperation, “touch—touch yourself, show me.”

The drag of your hand is slow, but eventually your fingers hover over your cunt, pressing against your sensitive clit as you circle, slow and intentional movement that rips a loud moan from your chest matched with his pointed thrusts, feeling his stamina weaning as he watches, hips stuttering.

“You’re a fucking dream,” Lucien admires, “makin’ a damn mess, too. You hear that?”

He slows down on purpose, partially for his own benefit but he’s proving his point, that sticky squelch of arousal, his faint grunts mixed with your quickly rising moans.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks curiously, eyes locked on your pussy, watching his cock split you open, gripping him and pulling him back in eagerly with every thrust, “Look at me—answer me, baby.”

There’s something so distinct in the way he says it, laced with an addictive drug.

Your eyes peel open, bleary behind near tears and you shake your head.

“Do you wish it did?” You counter, earning a subtle head shake from Lucien as he pulls out.

A moan of disappointment leaves your mouth before he’s quickly jostling your around, chest against the couch, his hand spreading wide over your back as he bends you over, fisting his cock as he feeds it back into your greedy cunt, the swollen head making you gasp as it pushes through your over-sensitive folds.

He uses the leverage as his hand climbs, gripping at your shoulder to pull you up, bracketing your body into the couch with a knee at your side, pressing you tight into his chest, his hand sliding around to your chin and turning your face to his, lips parting as he fucks you with a newfound ferocity, eyes rolling back so deep you aren’t expecting the fingers that find your clit, circling the senstive nerves until you’re tipping over the edge, soft encouraging words pulling you through your orgasm like a gentle wave, his fingers slowing down as you resurface.

He comes soon after, his hips stuttering out of pace again as you lean forward, feeling him pull out at the last possible moment before he’s painting thick strips of come against your lower back, the fingers of his left hand digging into your skin as he grabs you tight, the tip of his cock sliding against your ass.

You collapse with a content laugh, oblivious to Lucien searching frantically for something to clean you up before settling on one of the kitchen towels, your body slumped lazily against the couch and sighing when you feel his warm touch, the words slipping out on their own accord, “I got fired.”

“What?”

He tosses the dirty towel aside and passes over your clothes, pulling his own lounge pants back up his hips, sans underwear—and it makes you curious how often he does that normally, comfortable as he takes a seat, legs spread wide as he settles into the cushion.

“They called this morning,” You explain easily, pulling your top over your head and maneuvering your panties and shorts back on, “wouldn’t give me a reason, but it doesn’t matter.”

Lucien’s brow furrows in thought, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips out of habit.

“Is this one of those situations where you’re gonna ask if I’ll sign an NDA?” You half-joke.

He shakes his head almost immediately. He doesn’t seem to find it amusing, almost slightly concerned—or wounded?

“Come work for me,” He insists, “I’ve been needing an assistant.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” You ask him, staring at his flush chest and mused hair, evidence of rigorous sex all over his face, it was almost enough to have you confessing some unspoken feelings, but you weren’t that easily broken down.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Are you just trying to find a reason to stick around longer?” You tease him, a smile peeking out behind your tired expression, “Because it won’t work.”

“No—I’m serious about getting my shit together,” Lucien promises, “I might need a little help…but I want to.”

“Can I think about it?” 

Lucien nods, hands dropping to his lap as he fiddles with a ring on his finger, eventually trailing toward the chains around his neck before his head is popping up, a quizzical look on his face.

“Wait—was that because you were having a bad morning?”

The sex, he means.

A smile breaks out on your face, “Nothing an orgasm won’t fix.”

He can sense it isn’t the full truth, but he doesn’t pry.

“Damn straight,” He chuckles, both of you falling into a comfortable silence.

–

Your answer doesn’t come for a solid week, thinking over the pros and cons. It was complicated, indeed bound to be messy if you allowed it, but Lucien was promising to double your pay, no undermining, no hovering—it seemed too good to be true.

But, you were taking the risk.

Lucien was still awaiting the imminent release of the court documents, the storm of press, but when you were secured in the safety of your apartment, hidden under the blankets as Lucien clung to you, head buried in your chest and his cock still buried inside of you, a slow and lazy day was what he needed, but he also craved you—and he was addicting, impossible to deny.

“We can’t keep doing this when I start working for you,” You remind him.

“Who says we can’t?” Lucien asks curiously, adjusting his hips as he slides deep inside of your cunt, peering up at you with soft eyes, “We keep it casual, if we decide we wanna stop. We stop. It won’t affect your job. I’m not that much of a dick, baby.”

“Well, for starters, you can’t call me baby at work.”

Lucien nods dutifully, listening to you divulge into a long lists of hardset rules, eventually pulling your focus back to him, his hips moving at a slow but gradual pace until you can’t focus any longer, giggling loudly as he buries his face into your neck, a sufficient end to the conversation.

The rest could be figured out later.

-

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[ender1821]

Re: your idea about the vast majority of eyebrow raise gempearl stream moments having unhinged chat messages behind them. This latest Pearl stream (feb 4 I think) really drove that point home for me. Both in that chat was noticeably weirder that day, but also that in general they can’t escape each other, even in other streams.

All Pearl has to do is mention not getting distracted/sidetracked this stream, and chat is filled with Gem and pickles and whatnot. Head collecting? Ask Gem. Hungry Hemits? Agh, if only Gem was online. Need to borrow something from someone’s storage? It’s no longer Impy or Tango, but Gem, that’s first suggested.

And then that day Gem streamed in Pearl’s stead (cool coworker and friend move of her btw) and mentioned “our chats have just enough overlap” about knowing Oli’s peardle theme hotkey. That stream was explicitly connected to Pearl obviously, Gem herself kept bringing her up, but my point is how the cc’s are also aware of how merged they are.

I guess we’re like? Trained? That they’re a package deal. But it’s at bizarre levels compared to other streamers, even ones with more popular pairings. And yeah, it’s pretty funny / cute, especially when one of them gets a good quip in about it. I, too, voted in every round of the unhinged gempearl moments poll. But lately it feels so constant in streams, when even during WL chat usually contained it to episode discussion. Streamers play off the chat’s energy, making more moments chat goes crazy over, and so on, until we get here.

(This might tie into a larger discussion about chat moderation / tone / vibe, especially for Pearl, as seen in the latest stream with many unearned innuendo accusations. But I digress.)

The vibes are off in chat, and it’s lowkey a bit uncomfortable. Or maybe I’m overthinking. Love to hear your thoughts xoxo

I haven’t been able to catch the recent streams because of. Well. Life. But yeah I can see what you mean from the streams that I have been able to watch from the weeks before, this isn’t meant to discourage chat/fan interaction with ccs or anything, just to clarify first of all, because it’s normal for a streamer to have some back and forth with their chat, and like, it makes sense for a content creator to be seeking out and be aware of what their fans like, y’know? I don’t personally like having ccs acknowledge my existence like. At all. So I never show up in chat, but it’s still perfectly valid for fans to be engaging in chat and being vocal about what they like seeing

But still, if you’re asking for just my thoughts and stuff, I’d agree that there’s been an abundance of chat messages trying to push for more shiny duo interactions, which is most likely just because they’ve gained a lot more popularity as a duo/ship compared to, say, before Secret Life, so naturally, people wanna see more of them! And that just snowballs to. Uh. Feet apparently

Like you said, I think at its simplest it’s just cute that they’re such good friends and it’s so fun watching them banter and interact, it makes me incredibly happy watching them together!!! In my heart they are just. So. They’re frequently bought together do not separate secret third thing bonded by the stars and beyond etc. and I imagine for a lot of the fans expressing their love for them together/want for them to interact feel more or less like that

I don’t necessarily want to place blame on anyone for being vocal about it in chat because that’s what the stream chat is for, but you’re still making a pretty good point about chat being really focused with making Pearl interact with Gem on stream when she’s not really wanting/needing to do that. It’s a bit upsetting sometimes to see loads of messages trying to get an interaction and perhaps even derailing what’s happening in the stream, it’s frustrating to see some people in chat bring up shipping/shipping-adjacent topics when it’s already been made clear that it’s not something they want to see/have shoved at them (THIS IS DIFFERENT FROM THEM VOICING DISLIKE/HATRED FOR SHIPPING! NOT AN EXCUSE FOR PEOPLE TO DISS ON SHIPPERS!), so it does get a bit too much for me to see so many chat messages poking for a shiny duo interaction— I’m not really the person to speak on chat moderation stuff, I’m just. A girlie who likes shiny duo a bit too much, so there’s not much I can say regarding what I feel like is appropriate, we can all make our own call on what’s an okay amount of poking and nudging. Strictly in my own opinion, I do think we can chill a bit on that front, because I don’t want ccs to feel forced to only do this one thing and interact with just this one person, there’s plenty of other enjoyable player interactions and stream moments

[short-honey-badger]

Stuck Between the Gator and the Flamingo

*PREVIOUSLY WARLORDS' ASSISTANT*

Wanted to try my hand at some Crocodile x Reader x Doflamingo. Hope you enjoy it! This is also the fic I've got posted on AO3, but I wanted to share Chapter 1 here since it can be read as a stand-alone. Any comments are welcome! Thanks!

BTW! If anyone is interested in being a beta, let me know! I can always use the help.

Warnings! NSFW, size difference, phone sex.

Masterlist

Come read more on A03! -> HERE

Being the personal assistant to one warlord had been tough for sure, but apparently you've done a good enough job that you were picked to be the assistant to a second warlord. So now, you split your weeks between Sir Crocodile and Donquixote Doflamingo. This week you were with Crocodile, the easier of the two warlords to deal with. Doflamingo was more of a spoilt child than a man. You'd found that out the hard way. Speaking of the man child, the blond would not stop calling your personal den den mushi, and you could tell that the constant ringing was getting on Crocodile's last nerve. 

"What is so damn important that the 'Mingo has to call you on my week?" Crocodile snarled and suddenly reached over and grabbed the snail from your limp hands. His sharp teeth almost split his usual cigar.

You watch in shock as the warlord answers the snail call, "Why are you calling her when you know this is my week?" He growled into the receiver. Smoke curled from his mouth as you watched it curl in the low light of his office. 

"Fu Fu Fu, Croco you sound jealous. Do you not like it when I bother our pretty assistant?" Doflamingo crooned over the speaker, and you watched Crocodile's face contort in rage. "I'm sure she'd much rather be here in paradise than in your dreary, dusty, desert anyway."

At that moment, you think that Crocodile might break your den den mushi, but the man's expression changed from rage to one of calculation. His golden eyes flick back and forth between you and the speaker before a grin begins to curl along his lips. Crocodile takes the cigar from his mouth and stubs it out, and you feel your stomach drop. This wasn't good.

You let out a startled yelp when the man suddenly snatches his ringed hand out and catches your wrist. He pulls you into his lap and wraps his other arm around your waist, keeping you there easily. 

"How about we ask her?" The warlord rumbles and sat the receiver down. His hook slipped under your chin, forcing you to gaze up at Crocodile. "Tell us, who would you prefer to stay with, Darling?" He cooed to you, grin matching his namesake. 

You blush from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes. This was not how you'd imagined your evening to be going. Sure, both men have been open about their attraction to you, but neither has done anything about it. Until now, apparently. 

"I uh. I don't think I should be choosing like this." You say and squirm in Crocodile's lap. You should get off. This isn't appropriate, but the big man just pulls you closer to his chest and tightens his arm. "I'm not worth the two of you arguing anyway." 

You are close enough to the den den mushi to see its facial expression, and it doesn't look happy. The arm around your waist clinches hard enough to make you gasp, eyes going wide, and you tense when Doflamingo speaks. 

"Don't say things like that, Angel." He says, and you shiver at the dark tone of voice. To your surprise, Crocodile agrees with the bird. 

"You are one of the few things Birdbrain and I agree on. Do not speak ill of yourself. You are more than deserving of both of our attention." Crocodile rasps, and you can tell it is an order and not a suggestion. 

"Y-yes, Sirs." You say loud enough that Doflamingo can hear. Your face is bright red, and you fight not to squirm anymore in Crocodile's lap. 

"Fu fu fu." Doflamingo laughs over the speaker and you can hear him adjust. When he speaks next, his voice is much closer to the speaker, and you can hear the heat and lust that drips from his tone. "Good girl. But maybe she should be warned of her punishment if she doesn't listen to us again, eh, Crocoman." 

Crocodile laughs and brings up his hand to thread through your hair, tilting your head back again so he can peer into your glossy eyes. 

"Kuhaha ha ha. I think you are onto something, 'Mingo." He rumbles. You gasp when his hook snags your shirt. It tears like butter, sending buttons flying and the remains falling from your shoulders. The sharp point catches your bra as well, sending it flying and leaving your breasts bare to the cool air of Crocodile's office. "Let's give our assistant a preview." 

You burn in embarrassment, cheeks flaming and you raise your arms to cover your breasts. You don't know what is going on, why the men suddenly decided today would be the day they would have you. Even if one of them was thousands of miles away. 

"How does she look, Crocodile?" Doflamingo demands. Gods. His voice had dropped to a husky whisper full of sin and it sent shivers up and down your spine. 

"Delightful." Crocodile says and you flinch when he suddenly pushes your arms down and away to expose you again. Crocodile eyes you like a man starved and you find yourself folding into yourself. You've never received such attention from men like Crocodile or Doflamingo before. It makes you nervous. 

"You should see her, 'Mingo." Crocodile continues and without prompt reaches out and pinches your right nipple, causing a sequel to leave your lips. "Perfect tits, flushed and beautiful." He applies just enough pressure to have you gritting your teeth, heat pooling in your gut and your eyes clinching shut. You couldn't watch this. 

You hear your other boss groan over the den den mushi, "Do that again. I want to hear our little assistant come undone." He hisses slowly. 

Crocodile does so, thick fingers pinching your nipple harshly and enjoying the way you hiss at the motion. He massages the sensitive bud and pulls you closer so that he can place soft kisses on the side of your neck. You can't help the moan that escapes you, skin shivering and hips jerking in the warlord's hold. "St-stop," you whine, hands coming up to curl around Crocodile's wrist in a poor attempt to stop the man. 

The men laugh at your pitiful sounds and Crocodile redoubled his efforts by moving on to your other nipple. You keen when he suddenly bites down, eyes flying open to watch the dark-haired man palm your breast. Tears come to your eyes when he pulls away to kiss his bite mark and you can feel his smug grin against your neck. 

"Does that feel good, Angel? Having that big hand touch you? Doflamingo purrs over the den den mushi. In his palace on Dressrosa, he sits at his own rarely used desk, pants unbuttoned and cock already hard and leaking. He'd been thinking about you all day and could picture you half naked in his Croco's grip. 

You blush even more at his words and bite your lip. It feels fantastic, but you weren't about to admit that. Especially not to two men who have such big egos already. Instead, you shake your head no. 

"Kuhaha ha ha." Crocodile grins down at you and shakes his head as if he is disappointed. "Now, now. Don't be like that, Pet. Use your words, tell us how you feel." He crooned and niped your ear. 

You shake your head again. "N-no! I don't want this. Any of this!" You deny hotly though your body easily betrays you whenever Crocodile lays his hands on your delicate skin. You ache for these men, thighs shaking and core begging to be filled. 

"Fu fu fu. Hear that? I think she is lying to us." The Bird accuses and you feel your blood run cold at the dark tone of his voice. That was never a good thing to hear with Doflamingo. 

"I'm not lying, Doffy." You whine lowly and know that you've only dug your grave further when both of them laugh at you again. Clearly, neither of them believe you, and you can't blame them. 

Suddenly, you are shifted back and in a swift movement, Crocodile tucks his thighs between your own and shoves your legs open. Your skirt rucks up against your waist, exposing your underwear. You are completely vulnerable in this position and it makes fear and excitement mix inside you. 

"Mhm. I think she is 'Mingo." Crocodile rasps and his hand finds your clothed sex. He swipes over the black fabric and your yelp, bucking your hips at the unexpected gesture. You hear your boss inhale deeply and feel his grin. "She wouldn't smell this good, otherwise." 

"Crocodile!" You hiss, embarrassed beyond belief that the man would say such a vulgar thing. You grunt when his hook slips under the band of your underwear and the elastic slips, snapping back against your sensitive skin. 

"My name next, Angel." Doflamingo crooned and you flush hotly. Everything feels overwhelming and over sensitive. It makes tears come to your ears and you suddenly wish that the other man wasn't thousands of miles away. 

Crocodile snakes a hand down your front, rough fingers sending shivers down your back. He finds your clothed sex and strokes the fabric, grinning when he notices the damp spot. He presses down and rubs, humming and bucking his own hips up when you gasp at the sudden pleasure. "Come on, Pet." He says and swipes his fingers again, the friction almost too much against your clothed clit. "Say his name, and I'll give you everything you want." 

His thumb presses hard against your clit, turning in a slow, maddening half-circle that has you bowing forward and crying out. Your eyes open again and you watch the hand between your legs with intensity. Crocodile does it again and your mouth drops open in a keen, hips bucking and seeking that wonderful pleasure. 

"Say it." Crocodile demands of you and his deep, commanding voice finally has you surrendering. 

"Doffy!" You cry, eyes clinching shut as you sag back against Crocodile. His pace increases, rubbing your swelling clit harshly as you wiggle in his lap. The sight is lovely and he presses up into you, enjoying the way you rub yourself against his clothed cock. 

"Oh, Angel." Doflamingo praises over the receiver and you flush crimson at the reminder of your actions. What have you done? "Say it again for me. Crocodile, reward her for being a good girl." 

"Kuah ha ha." Crocodile's deep chuckle has your thigh twitching. He glances down, golden eyes watching you intently. His hook finds the elastic of your panties and he watches as shock flies over your face when he rips them from your body. Your mouth drops open in a gasp and you scramble to cover yourself from his gaze. However, his hand dives back between your legs before you can shut them, and easily pries your thighs open. 

"St-stop! I can't!" You cry out and the men just laugh at you again. Crocodile keeps your thighs spread with his hook and uses his free hand to grab your jaw. He tilts your head back and up, angling so that he can peer into your eyes. 

"Stop lying to us." He snarles and his eyes narrow into angry slits. Fear floods you, but your arousal skyrockets at the same time, leaving you in a muddled, confused mess in the pirates' hold. "You will take everything we give you." 

With those words, Crocodile jerks your legs open, exposing your core to the cool air of the office and shoves one thick finger into your leaking cunt. You hiss at the sudden stretch, eyes flying open to watch him pump his finger in and out of you, ear burning at the loud squelching sound that echoes in the office. 

Just as you felt like you were about to tip over the edge, Crocodile took his hand away and brought it up to his face. He examined your slick in the low light before sticking his finger into his mouth and licking it clean with a happy groan. "Wait until you can taste her, 'Mingo. Just like honey." The devil fruit user rumbled in delight. 

You whimper and whine, sounding more like a bitch in heat than a human sitting on her boss's lap. You glance down to see that your thighs are red and scratched, mostly likely from the golden hook that still sits between your legs. 

"Does it hurt, Angel?" Doflamingo croons over the speaker and you pick up the sound of skin on skin contact. The blonde was stroking himself to the sound of Crocodile playing with you, and the image that popped up in your mind had you groaning in delight. You found yourself nodding furiously, head thrown back to rest against Crocodile's chest. 

"D-Doffy, Crocodile, please!" You keen and gasp when the dark-haired man picks up his pace. His thumb meets your clit again and the warlord smiles at how wet you are just from what little attention he has given you. 

"That's it, Pet." He praises and watches in rapt attention when you shut your eyes and buck into his hand. 

Thousands of miles away, Doflamingo can picture his two lovers in his mind, the way Crocodile has you in his lap and all splayed out, ready to be devoured. He'd give anything to be able to kneel between your legs right now and drink straight from your source. 

"Give her another, Crocodile. I know she can take them." Doflamingo orders over the den den mushi. Crocodile doesn't disappoint and you gasp when another thick digit is added to your tight heat. Tears spring up at the stretch and your hips stutter as you come close again. You sob when that feeling falls away, leaving you pent up and wanting more. 

Doflamingo hears your groan and he picks up his pace, long fingered hand flying up and down his cock as he thinks about you. He whines, wrist twisting at teasing the head of his cock as he pictures you and Crocodile. 

Crocodile huff, golden eyes rolling as he listened to Doflamingo stroke his cock over the phone. The blonde is insatiable. However, he wasn't Crocodile's priority right now. You were, and he needed to give you a reminder that you belonged to them. His dick ached in his own pants, but he ignored it for now. He pumps his fingers faster, enjoying the sounds that your slick cunt makes as you leak around his fingers. 

The blonde couldn't wait to be the one to pull those gorgeous sounds from you. He could hear the heavy breathing of his fellow warlord and they mixed wonderfully with your high-pitched whines. 

"Fu fu fu, That's it Crocodile," Doffy purred. His other hand snaked down to squeeze his heavy balls, pulling a gruttle moan from the blonde, "Make her scream. I want to hear everything." 

Without warning, Crocodile shifts and adds a third thick finger to your weeping hole. You do scream this time, the stretch a mix of pain and pleasure causing you to bow over. His thumb comes back to your clit, rubbing harshly, until finally, finally, Crocodile allows you to come. 

"Ah-ahh ah." You stutter out, eyes clenched shut and mouth dropping open as you are overwhelmed. Your hips grind into his hand between your legs. Your boss doesn't stop or pull away until your hips stop twitching. Crocodile pulls his fingers from your slick cunt and then slurps them into his mouth to clean them. He grunts at your taste. 

"Hear that 'Mingo?" Crocodile grunts and Doflamingo can see the shit eating grin even thousands of miles away. "I think we can both say she prefers to be with me." He gloated. You peek up at the man and see that he looks incredibly proud of himself. 

Doflamingo whines over the phone. He is so, so close! "C-come on, Croco." His hips stutter and he throws his head back. Over the phone, he picks up the sound of Crocodile finding their assistants wet heat again. The Bird hears you whine and cry, breath heaving for release, and he spills over his tight fist. 

"What good pets." Crocodile praises and Doflamingo bites his lip to keep from keening at the praise. Crocodile was proud of both of his lovers and it showed in the tone of his voice and the small smile on his face. 

You are exhausted. Your body and mind are nothing but putty. Crocodile easily lifts your body and wraps his fur coat around your body. You whine when the movement causes the apex of your thighs to ache and Doflamingo shushes you gently over the phone. 

"Let him take care of you, Angel." He murmurs, tone full of satisfaction, "I'll be there as soon as I can." Like hell would he wait to see you and Crocodile after this. 

Crocodile hums, holding his assistant turned lover close to his chest. He glances down and sees that you've already fallen asleep and a small smile graces his face. 

"Hurry up, 'Mingo." He rumbles, and his golden eyes slip closed, "We are waiting for you." 

[alonetogether]

okay top five favorite underrated robron scenes and go

this took me several days to think about lol you have no idea how much i love you rn for letting me info dump about them omfggg i dont know what counts as underrated really i feel like every single scene they have is so well-loved for one reason or another but, i'll happily list some underrated(?) details i noticed on my watchthrough

this will be in no particular order just from what i think of first. god. ok

though its a very very very well known and loved scene (WELL DESERVED) i just love how robert sways with aaron during the reunion scene, like he's trying to do a first dance 2.0 with him to adele all over again. and help jog aaron’s memory about the scene like. Well technically it’s just standing. and then of course they have a flirting banter back and forth EXACTLY like their first dance too. god. wedding parallels kill me always

when aaron goes away to ireland after the gordon stuff comes out but before gordon is charged, the background plot of robert working at the scrapyard for aaron to not only make his life a little easier once he comes back but also working his ass off to have the scrapyard earn MORE money so aaron can be a little more comfortable financially (and pay for legal fees) once he's back too. like. god. 2016 robron forever and ever and ever i would live there 24/7 if i could

the casino las vegas holiday scene where robert has his hands over aaron’s eyes and is leading him to the back room it’s just. sooooooo cute to me but also shows how much aaron trusts robert. and it just makes me happy to be reminded what kids they both are like i truly do believe they have eachother pieces of their childhood back after both of theirs were taken from them :,-) like they can be KIDS together. ugh

the fact that chas picks out the song “can’t take my eyes off you” just kinda confirms that even when robron aren’t on screen all they are doing is staring at and giving heart eyes to each other, so much so that everyone in the village notices that it’s like. constant. and honestly just gonna throw in the whole karaoke scene as a scene i love that’s underrated(? not really), i’m a sucker for karaoke. and it kinda calls back to them being kids with each other

the "you are such a wind-up" scene lives rent free in my head its just sooooo them its SOOOO them, and really shows how much they know each other like aaron is literally saying nothing and robert STILL knows he's trying to rile him up likeee. i think theres a common trend with my fave details/scenes of them both and it's when they allow themselves to be silly / be kids like i cannot state this enough sorry. it just hits sooo good that they not only supported each other through revealing their childhood traumas to the other (robert supporting aaron getting gordon locked up / aaron supporting robert by steering any and all conversation away from jack) like... they can give each other a little piece of childhood glee back like its just so special to meeee

i'd love to know yours if you'd like to list some :-)

[loquarocoeur]

currently smiling like an idiot at my laptop screen because the way you write makes me insane & I just!! 😭 I love them and I love LOVE and I love ur writing and UGH

I don't even know what to say, that chapter was just utterly perfect, the perfect ending, the perfect vibe, the perfect ambience, the perfect everything 🥺

I just love the way they talk to each other, the constant bickering and back and forth and their softness and chatter and as much as I love max being unable to do anything but whine like the little bottom bitch he is I loved him being coherent and him talking with Charles & helping Charles feel good and oughghuoughghgu

(the 'no u come' 'no U COME' argument was perfect, actual gold)

shoutout to nipple orgasm anon bc that champagne bottle to the nipples was so hot thank you for giving Alex those particular brain worms

it was just so beautiful and precious and sexy and !!!!!!

 “I’d be so happy for you I’d embarrass myself more than I ever have in my life.” godgodGOD 😭 shut the fuck up right now. like right the fuck now. I somehow had never considered how it'd be in the yours verse when Charles eventually gets the wdc and holy fuck I somehow am even mORE desperate for it if that's even possible. ferrari girl. you. better. work. bitch.

(also im ngl whenever u write charles losing his mind and uncontrollably grinding into the mattress. I also lose my mind and die. because fuck me its hot I can't take it acktually. u are responsible for my murder. something about it specifically just gets me. just like fuck one day when Charles is being a mopey bitch because maybe max has been gone for a while (lbr 2 days) and calls max to be whiny and soppy and 'maaaax I love you cheri. baby. honey. darling. please come home' and ofc it eventually becomes phone sex and maybe Charles was already laying on the bed or something and he imagines all of max's noises are happening right above him like normal. maybe he puts the phone speaker on the pillows and he slides down the mattress a bit. he forgets he can just touch himself normally and he isn't responsible for touching max to get him off for once and so he just absentmindedly just starts rocking and grinding and moaning into the duvet while he's instructing max on what to do and talking him through it and he doesn't really become totally cognisant of it until max has come first and then he goes Oh. because he's just so used to focusing on max first and just didn't even consider properly touching himself.)

thank you as ever for your brain ♥️ 🦢

~ swanon

(who maybe also has been feeling silly amounts of happy the whole day that your response to my returning ask was so cute and made me go :) smth smth I love u all and knowing u all like my asks and general presence makes me want to sob w joy every time💕💕💕)

Asdfghjkl thank you yes you get them they're so in love!! ANd Ferrari better work, I agree

Also yes??! You are so right?! I love your brain I've been meaning to write phone sex again forever

Swanon, you are one of this blog's crown jewels, we love you so much, please never die❤️

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

yesterday was a very rough day for me. I was very anxious which caused me a lot of stomach pain and headache. Kept walking back and forth hoping and praying that when the episodes drop I won't see what I ended up seeing. I could barely sleep the night before it either. Then I saw the google drive link for the episode on twitter, downloaded it and skipped straight to the end just to see who goes home, hoping that all that constant pain and fighting wasn't for nothing. Turns out they were all for nothing. I made a comment about it on reddit then I just cried my eyes out. All for nothing, yet another lose and proof that I have no luck, that nothing in my life ever wants to work out the way I want. I cried and my chest hurt so much that I passed out and my mom had to take me to the hospital. I am fine and can think and talk properly now, however i have no desire for anything anymore. Absolutely nothing. And whenever I think about what happened I just feel bad. I was able to watch season 3 episode 21 in full a few hours ago and was completely let down by how they wrote him. It was so awful. I was able to stomach how he went home last season but here? This ain't it. I haven't felt this bad watching a disventure camp episode in my life and I have 0 desire to continue watching it, and as someone who constantly defended the show this really hurts more than it should. I feel like I got stabbed. Jake haters won, I lost. Congrats to everyone who wanted him to go early, you won, he's not gonna compete ever again. I bet all of them are celebrating right now, good for them.

So this leads me to my goodbye. Everyone i know told me to leave everything about this show behind for my own well beng. And that's what I'm going to do. Thank you to everyone who liked me, and to those who didn't, I am sorry. I had some fun times here and I'm happy I was able to make some people laugh either with my pants jokes, my fanarts or with my love for Jake, which yes, is genuine, I do genuinely have a crush on him even if he's not real, even if he's a piece of shit, he's my piece of shit. i'm gonna keep this account up for a few more hours then I will delete it for good unless the mods will be faster than me and delete this thread before it for being too off topic. No more coming back unless maybe some miracle happens and I find out that either him or another character I really love will compete in another season. But i'm not gonna be that lucky because this whole thing proved that I never will be, no matter how much I beg for it. Why remain here when I'm not interested in any of the future episodes and the show will likely end for good after it, if not forever then definitely for a couple of years. No point in staying here. Goodbye and as Jake once said, It's giving./c

its giving 😞✊🏼

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary471

1/9-10/24

thursday - friday

okay...

i have been up for over 24 hours just to make sure my sleep goes back to normal because i was out so late with my friends. which is good and stuff but i also hate how it messes with my sleep, and this means tomorrow when my gf goes to the dentist tomorrow, i will go with her mom to the grocery store to get things we need. this is good. i didn't read at all today i was kind of like, lost basically, i cleaned up and things as usual, i didn't draw, but out of nowhere i did a lot with music, i made 2 new guitar sounds i really like... that makes me super happy, i fixed one too, and now things don't feel so stressful with music. it turns out that the bass cab simulators in the th-u overloud thing, 2 of them have an option to bring in a lot of high end/tweeter range, which is crazy, i was looking for something that did that specifically!! now i have the high end i always look for in a more natural way!!!! this is such a relief with the stuff i want to do, it makes my life so much easier...

oh, here's me from yesterday:

i know this is a bunch of #spam but i don't know when i'm going to be dressed up again. maybe tomorrow apparently we're going to hotpot but idk... i don't need to. i should dress casually for that, especially since there will be grocery shopping.

re: the music today there's like 4 new songs / ideas. 1 is basically fully fleshed out, drums and everything, it has 2 basses going at the same time, i was listening to black eyes, and i wanted to try and get something like the bass sound they get.

i've talked about it before, but i love this song so much, and basically nothing else on the record gets close... frustrating!! it's a constant inspiration though, that frustration. it's insane how perfect this song is.

today was big for music, i listened to a couple albums i really loved, i listened to the new holy grinder, which was great fucked up noisecore grind stuff:

and then there was a record by this band infant, the record's called giant leg, that one felt revelatory, super creative with how they do the guitars and synths and everything... it's so colorful and freakish, rainbow-puke type stuff:

i like the three vocalists across this record. this is goofy of me, but when bands from the uk do this type of stuff, i'm apprehensive, i think mostly because all the whitebelt/faggy stuff i know / its history tends to be in america, i guess i'm like, it won't be as good, idk. there's some stuff, like this band punish the atom, they sort of veer that direction but don't go all the way. these 3 go insane on it, though. take this song for instance too:

the guy here sounds demented!! i also really love the freaky ring mod bitcrushed guitar, and how all these songs have synth bass instead of bass guitar, the key parts are so cool, make me think of some bands like post office gals and stuff, even the locust a bit in places, especially when they're doing freaky stuff to the filters and seeming to get things to self oscillate in wonky ways. interesting how unknown this record seems to be, it's like crack for people like me, and there's at least... 10 of us... the bits where they use drum machine kicks too, it's so crazy, what's the best way to describe the effect, a website where all the unicode's spitting out nonsense text, an improperly installed language pack, bit-rotted images, a heart attack at the carnival, bleeding on a cactus, the red and green together and the orange sands, a kind of hideous smear of color, the pink skin, the sky a massive canopy for a constant circus. laughter an emanation of the impossibility of thinking the present, stuff kind of jumping forth from the past, to the future, so overwhelming it expresses how the immediate has always passed away before it could be captured, everything swimming away or towards you. shimmering under the flash of a camera and iridescence in unlikely places.

helpful to say things like that, when trying to reflect on the little blanchot introduction i'd been reading yesterday... though failed to read today because i am stupid!!!

but other stuff in music today, i was looking at this band i like on discogs, dmonstrations, to see if there's anything else by them i missed out on, and i got to looking at the guitarist/vocalist of the band's page since he also did all the cover art, and i think the cover art and layout stuff is super special for that band:

so i find out he's from japan, has since moved back, started another band, dmonstrations were originally based in san diego, which is a classique white belt spawning zone, and the other band, 2up, is really good too, his guitar playing is really cool to me, he moves between really interesting phrases, stuff that's straightforwardly punk-y, and then more no-wave-y dissonant freakout stuff, always figuring out how to turn these things into riffs, the communicative/grammatical process in the way he plays/writes songs, idk, it's very fascinating.

there's gestures here that feel really hardcore-y, in how he plays, like at around 20 seconds here, but then the slide stuff he does, weird chords, and then the tone of the guitar, so shambolic and freaky, you're able to hear the strings and the texture of the strings really well i think. i also really like that it's a duo with just guitar and drums, recalls pink and brown to me, another band like this, where the guitar was free to play around with all kinds of movements, a kind of semantic rot.

oh, here's a video of dmonstrations i found, to show my friend, i like that the bassist is wearing what looks like a head wound city shirt, and an aside, but what was the deal with fox rox, whose idea was that, what a stupid and strange thing, was that broadcasted to the people who watch fox news or was it a local deal??? how bizarre, i remember seeing a video of the locust on there and then this really awkward interview they did where the guy asks them about punk rock elvis or something and them i think puking on him? or pissing? something like that, anyhow:

anyhow this brings me back to the main guy here, tetsunori tawaraya, on his site, i found a bunch of posters he made for shows, which is crazy how good he's been at archiving all that, here's some i really liked, super duper interesting kind of art, it sort of links up with how i was describing that album giant leg, as well, a kind of artistic expression of that meeting of the limit, occupying the gulf where there is only intensity and excess of shadow, where sensations of what has passed/ what you know not now but have the feeling you will have known (returning to a quote of blanchot (something about knowing's impossibility, the feeling that you will have known, because of the eternal return, the appearance of difference, a difference one can sense, the difficulty of articulation, i think it gets at, and then there it gets at the necessity of writing and its difference/insubordination to speech)), anyway, these kinds of violent visions that, or the way they feel, their kind of silly nature speaking more to me the carnival of kristeva over anything purely cartoonish:

here is his site with a lot of other stuff to look at as well:

he has a lot of his art up, it's really really lovely to see, he seems like a really fascinating guy, i also love how 2up seems to have kept going for a long time in a rather stable way, though i haven't seen anything of them since 2022, which is sad. but maybe long term projects like that are, rather than things that end, something that are so routine you end up feeling like you can take a break from them? and at that level of familiarity, it makes sense, to take breaks.

and here's something else i listened to today:

some fun screamy nintendocore. i really like how the snare sounds here, sometimes snares + kicks sound not so good in nintendocore but this guy really gets those sounds right, plus he has a fun scream, a little more in the mark mccoy vein.

i think maybe there were other things i wanted to say but i'm too tired, it's 11:30, this is a long time to have been awake. i hardly feel bad though, maybe it'll hit me tomorrow. maybe i wanted to talk about some dolls i saw on flickr the other day... i'll post them tomorrow... maybe i'll do some posts on the tl for them too... idk. i should also read and stuff after hotpot. it'll be my first time with hot pot, i'm excited. i mostly want vegetables... and spicy.

now i really am sleepy, if i stayed up 30 more minutes this entry would touch 3 days of my life... wouldn't that be disturbing.

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[indigosuvi]

Unholy

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 1,048 | Read it on AO3 | Tag List

Shinju had surprisingly never been in a relationship before. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t bad at it. He’d take you out on beautiful dates, and he was very kind and caring. He would also give you gifts and never forget any important dates. He also remembered everything you told him about yourself, from anything as simple as your favorite color to something you said that you liked in passing but you didn’t have the money to afford at the time. He didn’t forget, and he tried the best that he could to make things perfect for you. You were happy with him, and you tried telling him he didn’t have to spend all his money. He did pretty well saving; despite his constant spending, he knew what it was like to be poor and wasn’t going to go through that again. Things were good between the two of you. There wasn’t usually a time where there was an argument. You both often talked things out before they got worse. You were both good at communicating your feelings. It had been many months into your relationship. You wanted to take things further, but you didn’t know how to tell him. You never had an issue talking to him before. You were nervous, and so was he. He felt the same as you did and was afraid of what you might say. You guys had never gone this far in your relationship before.

You sat on the couch next to him, reading a book while he scrolled through things on his phone.  Both of you were content in your own little world. You looked over at him, your eyes slowly trailing his body. Looking over at him, you couldn’t help but let out a little smile as you watched him. His eyes seemed to be glued to his phone. You thought he was oblivious to your watchful eyes. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes. His orange eyes glowing as he looked at you. You didn’t stop staring, and he turned his full attention on you.

“Can I help you?” He asked as he looked at you with a slightly confused glance.

“Sorry, I was just admiring you...” You said trailing off as you looked away.

He turned and looked at whatever had suddenly caught your attention. He saw nothing and looked back at you. You stayed looking away, and he noticed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said quietly as you went back to reading.

He looked away and looked back at you. He didn’t mean to upset you. He wasn’t sure what he had done or what to do.

“Are you sure that you’re okay?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. You were fine—perfectly fine. You hadn’t expected to be caught admiring him. You didn’t want to say the thoughts that you had in your head. It didn’t help that Sinju had leaned closer, listening to anything that you might say quietly. He was genuinely worried for you, and if you looked over at him, you would have seen the worry that he had on his face.

“I was just thinking about how it would be nice to have you inside me.” You stated quietly, as you felt your face heat up.

He blinked. He had heard you clearly. He blinked again as he sat back in his seat. He didn’t know what to say or do. The silence was deafening. It was only for a moment, but it felt much longer than that.

“Do you really want to?” He asked as he looked at you.

You looked at him when you replied. “Yes.”

He smiled as he gently grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap. Your eyes met his, and he wrapped his arms around you. You leaned in, closed your eyes, and your lips met his. He kissed you back, and his hand slowly slid up your shirt. Your hand found its way into his hair. You continued to kiss him. Your hips slowly began to move back and forth. He gave your lip a gentle bite and kissed you once more. Your hips continued moving against him. His hand found its way to your chest, while his other hand held onto your hip. You separated away from him as you slid yourself back and forth. You wanted to see his face. You could feel his hardened cock beneath him. His cheeks were a light pink hue as you looked at him. His orange eyes slowly trail down your body. Your hands found their way to the hem of your shirt. You grabbed your shirt and slowly pulled it off your body, teasing him. His eyes began to wander, and you gently grabbed his chin and had him look at your face. He blushed brighter and closed his eyes; he couldn’t look away with your hand holding onto him. He opened his eyes, and your hand slid down his chest. He took his shirt off, and his hand found its way back to your hip and chest as you continued grinding against him. His hands shakily grabbed a hold of your hips.

“Let me inside of you, please.” He said quietly as he looked at you.

“Go ahead.” You said with a smile.

He moved so that you were lying on the couch. He removed the remainder of your clothes, as well as his. His fingers worked to stroke/rub you. You let out a moan as his fingers began to work harder and faster. His other hand worked to stroke himself. He bit his lip to prevent himself from moaning. He brought you both to cum, and then he slid himself inside of you, letting out a moan as he did. His hands rested on your hips as he waited for confirmation before he began to move his hips back and forth. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he took his time, slowly moving his hips back and forth, before you told him to increase speed. He began to move harder and faster. Your hips moved along with him, causing you to moan. He continued to thrust back and forth. His moans were quiet as he did, and the blush still remained on his face.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @eli-chris

[anhourofsleep]

Favorite Umbrella

I didn’t expect the rain.

All day, the sun was shining its blistering rays. When I left the house, I could feel the heat prickling on my skin, determined to persuade me to just stay inside.

It was Sunday. I can’t stay inside.

So when I went home at 9 PM, grateful for the ride home from my friends, the sudden, strong downpour was not something I wished for. Obviously, this will make it harder for me to go home. But I didn’t want this because I know, deep in the crevices of my short-circuiting brain that I did not bring an umbrella.

The rain was sudden. And it was strong. When it was at the crescendo of its power, I panicked. The sidewalk was clean of waiting sheds (screw poor urban planning, amirite?). I kept moving forward, hoping to find something. Anything, at this point. Because I knew if I don’t, I’ll get soaked and I’ll be miserable.

Shortly after I bet my whole life on just moving ahead and hoping for the best, I found myself in front of a car dealership, with a single, pop-up canopy still up. I hurried along and got under it just in time for the rain to drop like a hot new BINI single (I am not good with analogies).

Fall like rain indeed. With me safe under this tent, I watched as the rain became torrent, generously sharing its water as if everyone in this part of the city has had none for the past few years. It looked like it wasn’t stopping any time soon. I accepted that this was going to take a while, so I paced back and forth under the shade, getting weary as each second went by.

So I just decided to pray. Might as well do something. My bluetooth headphones are dead and I can’t lay down to nap (obviously).

I started reflecting on what’s been happening so far. I feel like I’m at a major fork in the road. I have gone through some, but this feels different. This feels like the moment. Like in the movies where the hero has to choose; the world or his loved one? Do or die, my good sir.

At this fork, my battle within myself rages on. The choice to be happy is hard when melancholy is so comfortable. They say change is the only constant thing in the world. And I’m constantly ignoring its calls.

I’m used to doing things on my own. I don’t care how anyone does it. And it worked for me. Right...?

“Nope. It did not.” I said out loud.

It’s fine. There are no people around and if there were, the rain would be loud enough to mask my voice.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It did not work out for me. I am a mess. I am broken. When I feel like everyone around me is having the time of their life, I am in my own world where the only one speaking is that gloomy blue star in the Mario Movie, going “Everything’s over now and all that’s left is you in an infinite void” over and over again.

And it all happened in an instant. It’s like this sudden downpour, where I am left to just move forward, regardless if I find shelter or not.

I looked for it in a lot of things. Most of it is in the company of people who want me to drink my troubles away. That worked for them, they said. But it’ll be like if I try and ask someone to walk with me in this rain and both of us have no raincoats or umbrellas. I’ll be glad of the company, but we’re both soaked, right?

For a time, I was content in doing this. It’s the familiar. It’s something that made me comfortable because it was my constant. I don’t want to look for a new life. This is it for me. Why should I strive for something better? But I felt it. I felt it in my heart that I have to move forward. Even if I can’t see how I’m going to be okay.

When I was slipping over and over again that made me look like I was just lying down, God held out His hand through the people in this community. When I accepted that this is the peak for me, He told me no and sent out people to help me up.

He doesn’t want me down there. He wants me up because I have a job to finish.

However, He also knows I can’t brave the storm yet. So He guided me to a canopy where I should just sit back and revel in the isolation because He knows I’ll get to know Him more here. He removed me from the world because I’ve been trying too hard to go through it on my own. He provided me shade because He knows that I have yet to acquire my umbrella.

Through the raging torrent, I found shelter. A shelter that I can stay in to wait out the storm and with people who are waiting with me. People isolated from the cruelty of the world, finding solace in God’s protection.

When the rain stops, I’ll be more careful to bring my umbrella next time. If the storm comes again, I’ll use it and maybe help out someone who got caught in the rain and lead them to their canopy. The same way that the people in mine did for me.

For now, let the storm prove its point. I will be waiting here, safe in the shade.

Isaiah 4:5-6

[ohhcalamxty]

hello. its been a while? 5 years actually. what a place this is! what a trip down memory lane of many emotions.

a quick tldr: im 25 now, im engaged and live with my amazing partner and 2 cats. i am ed free (for the most part - i still struggle to love my body sometimes), clean, and i am in therapy! a place i never would have thought id be.

i didnt think id come back here like. ever. but ive been having nightmares of sam recently. its odd isnt it, how the brain works? i havent seen sam in 7 years? since the 2nd june 2018 to be exact, and yet he haunts me. why?

this is an odd correlation but recently i got into taylor swift. her music has been wonderfully cathartic and whilst i never assumed id be one of those girls who screams breakup songs and curses them at my exes....here we are.

TTPD (and most of taylors sad songs) unhealed me, so to speak, or at least awoke something in me. i wouldn't ever proclaim i have had bad relationships. i am always grateful for the time myself and owen spent together, and i am extremely happy with josh (I'd say 2/4 of my relationships being good is pretty huge) but here I am screaming and crying over break up songs at the eras tour and tearing up in the shower because they resonate with a point in my life and put my feelings into words in a way I've never been able to do.

elliot was interesting but i try not to curse his name so much as we were 14 and maybe he didn't mean what he did because he didn't understand consent, or maybe i am naive and too nice - i guess we'll never know because he quite literally dropped off the face of the earth! (Also, minor shoutout for him delaying dumping me because my grandma died! i do appreciate that at least!)

sam however....oh where do I begin with sam!

"Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?"

I think I spent a lot of my teen years reflecting on sam, because well, he fucked me up so much. i mean how emotionally spent must I be to have nightmares of someone who I spent less than 12 months with at the age of 16, and then collided with again for a single night at the age of 19. Clearly we're fucked here.

I cannot find the words to describe you, and I'm unsure what i did to deserve a love like this. You had a girlfriend that you loved and were with for years, and then I (your close friend at the time) got dumped, and you make your move. We hang out a lot, cool, fine, nothing new as we were friends anyway. My mind is hazy on how it started or when we went from friends to whatever we were but it haunts me so much lmao.

The constant talks of i was the one, and that yes I will leave her for you. I fear nobody ever talks about being the other woman because its so odd - it isnt a flex, it isnt cool or sexy. it fucking sucks and it fucked me up but i liked sam so much i believed it. I mean picture this: you're 16, just lost your grandma, heavily depressed, self harming, riddled with an ed and have been dumped but low and behold your best friend tells you he loves you and plays with your hair and holds you. we go on dates and have sleepovers with friends (he still had a gf btw) hes fucked up too but he worries and cares about you more than anyone else, but at the cost of if you try to pull away he hurts himself, and threatens suicide (and believe me he'd do it) - stuck between a rock and a hard place aye.

"And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts - Memories feel like weapons"

Less than a year of back and forth, misery and stringing along. I can't remember how or why it ended but I know it took a lot of attempts of pulling away (and him pulling me back) to get away. A lot of bits are hazy but I can assume it must have been around the time when I met owen? There are old screenshots on here of sam talking to me and they make me feel unwell (not an exaggeration) - his words (even after it all ended) and how he tried to act like he cared makes me feel like a pit inside (even now). I do however find it funny that my posts from 2015 and 2016 about him claiming hes ruined my life don't seem that dramatic now that im 25 and having nightmares about him.

"Oh, God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind - I regret you all the time"

I think I would have been ok if this was it. I don't think I would be grieving my past self, my girlhood, my naivety if this was all - i very much had support through my other relationships to help the sam trauma which i do appreciate. But it doesnt end here does it? Nah thats too easy.

"Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden"

2nd June 2018: Me and Josh had briefly split up. It was Karlies birthday and we went out in HTC (dire) and I guess because Hinckley is a tiny place and everyone goes to the same places we ran into a lot of people (some good some bad) - including Sam.

Ima be honest idk where he came from or who he was out with but there he was, buying me drinks, talking to me, I dont remember much but I can assume I was happy. I do however remember him leading me away, telling me we're heading to the next bar because that's where everyone else was going but we actually were heading in the complete opposite direction haha. god knows where we were going but on the walk we sat on a bench, i cried, i told him off, told him he ruined my life, he told me he'd missed me so much, he held me, i cried more, i hated him and then we just rinsed and repeated as he pootled me up castle street to wherever he was taking me. My friend rang me, I told them I was with sam, people came running (guess they all know hes bad news) and they (including josh, who was my ex at the time and ig technically hated me) beefed him until he left and that was that. I haven't seen him since - i still dont know where he was taking me or what his plan was. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I didnt answer the phone, sometimes I wish I hadn't and that maybe I deserved whatever would happen. Maybe I'm blowing it out of proportion, being dramatic, but the trauma of the emotions that 16 year old me feels is still there. It haunts me.

"Don't call me "kid", Don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me"

So here we are. I guess I'm bringing this up at therapy in a few weeks because these feelings won't disappear (and Honestly I'm not sure why they reappeared other than being repressed emotions). I wonder though, has this affected you as much as it as me? Do you feel bad about what you did? Are you suffering? Do you think about me? Do you feel bad that you had such control over me or did you enjoy it? Claiming you've lost sleep over me and that you want to protect and help me? Was any of it true I wonder.

"And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?"

I suppose I'll never know, but I can only hope that memories of me haunt you as much as they haunt me. I hope you get everything you deserve, and I hope I can heal. My skin is no longer the skin you touched, I no longer physically feel you, and I hope one day my memories of you will be hazy and faded, and I don't need to jump at ghosts anymore.

And my therapist wonders why I really dislike men huh.

[girlwaitingforvienna]

I feel like the worst version of myself at the moment.

I'm 23,

Married,

I have a 18 month old son who I love more than anything,

But I'm still not fulfilled completely,

Still not "happy",

Not content.

Money isn't supposed to be everything & yet- it involves literally almost everything you want to do,

You are supposed to be confident but not too confident that you let your own ego swallow up your soul and turn you against yourself with pure vanity,

You are supposed to keep learning new things, keep climbing up the ladder with a career and a job and a house and your own creative endeavors all at the same time-

But you look down and only realize that you have 2 hands,

Oh how satisfying would it be to have an abundant amount of hands so you can do as many things you want to do all at once without the worry of working with only the 2 that you have.

I feel like I have this big heavy hole living inside of my chest- a swarming sea of complete blackness and negativity and self-sabatage and depression,

And it has tenticals- trying to pull whatever is lying nearby into the hole of darkness that sinks deeper inside of me, it wants more victims to feed on- because it almost has a sense that my will is becoming too weak for its liking.

I try to patch up the hole when I need to-

Forcing it to only feed on me, but sometimes it still finds its way outside of myself, bringing other people down with me, and it's painful to watch.

I know myself one day,

Then I don't the next;

"Who are you?" I ask my reflection in the mirror.

I think to myself; I am a mom,

A wife,

A dog-lover,

A writer,

A dreamer-

Then I feel that all-too-fimilar pang run through the middle of my chest and I can see the blackness of the hole beginning to show itself right in front of me - extending its sinister tentacles my way, slowly wrapping itself around my throat-

Wanting more than anything to swallow me hole;

but I turn away and pretend it was never there to begin with.

I feel like a disappointment to everyone that I love.

"Why can't you just do the right thing?!" My consciousness screams loudly inside of my head.

"Why do you make things more complicated than they need to be?!" It continues.

"Why can't you just BE HAPPY?!" It relents.

My mind swarms with thoughts similar to these on an almost constant never-ending cycle, leaving me feeling helpless and dry and with hardly any motivation to do what's "right.".

What even is the right thing to do?

I believe I am a good person at heart, but I also admit I do partake in some stupid ignorant things that I know is wrong at times.

But why?

Why, why why?

It feels good for maybe a split second and then I am being tossed back and forth inside my own head about whether or not I am worthy of this life. Because someone who makes bad decisions and then still convinces themselves that they are a "good person" in their heads is not a person who will grow mentally in a good way.

I'm petrified of falling into the abyss of nothingness everyday-

The black hole that tries to consume me on a daily basis,

It's tiring,

I want the life I deserve and I want to be the best version of myself but how can I do that if I am still attempting to find that best version?

I feel like the best version of me is hiding inside a dark corner of my mind, scared to show herself in fear of the possibility of rejection from the outside world,

The possibility of getting used,

Getting run over by a tractor trailer that is called "life" after doing all that she could to make the best life for herself because she deserved it.

It's something that scares me night and day,

And I'm slowly working on getting over that fear before the black hole keeps trying to consume me; because that is a battle I want to win, but also a battle I'm not sure I can fight.

[marshbarks]

prefacing this with i'm trans and tags werent clear enough to talk in for this so i'm posting on the post- but this might not make 100% sense bc its mostly processing thoughts as they happen.

but i've personally been holding onto that small hope of an 'accepting' butters since the cissy, with the 'he's not a woman, he's not a man, he's something you'd never understand- but he would die for me' quip. like most things, i assume this is a greater reference, but that isn't my point. my point is that at the very least, even if butters is a misogynist, he doesn't... disprove of trans people?

i think its interesting how the fandom seems to take marjorine currently as an overall positive, sorta thoughtless Cute Girl type. (i have my own gripes with this in general, because i often see her dumbed down to nothing more than like... kenny's arm candy?) i think back before, a lot of marjorine stuff was more focused on the sobbing of 'nobody likes me' and the general wider angst that the marjorine episode offered us. he didn't want to be dressed up like a girl. he didn't want to convince his parents he was dead. he didn't want to be at that sleepover. he didn't want to do this. he ripped off the wig and he was angry for what the other boys had put him through. and on top of all of that, his fucking parents chained him up in the basement and tried to feed him a dead body. i don't think marjorine would be a positive memory for butters.

but y'know, maybe- justttt maybe, those few hours of acceptance and fun sat in him. he was with a group of 'friends' who picked him up when he was sad, and made him feel cute. happy. whatever. they helped him. and maybe that was a turning point, too. maybe that started his distaste of women. because he couldn't have that forever. there was a trick to it, a ruse. he couldn't just be a cute girl having fun with her friends. there was an ulterior motive. and he might've grown to hate the girls because of it. they were the ones with a future telling device. they were the ones who beat him down first, THEN lifted him up. it was all their fault.

and butters is known to lash out when upset. when cornered. when it all feels like too much. if the world is against butters, then well, butters will just be against the world!

its hard to pinpoint when he'd start to think 'if i was just a girl again, life would be easier', but i think that's my idea behind the beginning of the transition. it's him taking this twisted perception of women in his mind and going 'life would be so much easier if i was like them'. and that's not... true. it really, really isn't true. but he blames girls and women for so much, surely if he was a girl too, he wouldn't be on the 'losing' side. he tries to win for the boys, but its... a mess. misguided. it fucks up more than it fixes.

and i think crimson dawn is a good place for exploration, too. currently i'm writing something where butters is 'leo' to his friends and whatnot, but 'marjorine' up on stage. just having the smallest place to explore. getting to write music that expresses all the hurt and anger. i think his lyrics would get peer-reviewed a lot. changed to be less misogynistic. he's so quick to blame his problems on girls and not himself, not his dad, not his friends. he tried blaming them, and it didn't work so girls are the only punching bag he has left (yikes! stop it!)

i think that his transition at all- even into just being more gender neutral- would be fucking grueling. it'd be a constant back and forth of teetering on the edges of dysphoria, or thinking lesser of himself for being like this, or anger and rage directed at himself for falling to this level. just... all honestly really bad thoughts to have. about women, and about himself.

it isnt sunshine and rainbows and hello kitty. it maybe could've been once. back before everything stacked up too high. but it isn't now.

i think a lot of the misogynism would turn into self hatred. would turn into being an extremely gatekeepy queer who turns their nose up if someone else isn't 'doing it right' or 'doing it enough'. they'd have so many standards for themself, it'd be a really, really rough few years. they'd grow with time, and maybe get out of the environment that was feeding those ideas, and become more comfortable, but it would not be an overnight switch.

i think that she's tragic in a way.

hated no matter what she does, by her family, her friends, herself. forced to sit through and endure so fucking much until it broke her over and over and over again. and here she is now. with a changing body and trying so fucking hard to find what's right and even that feels wrong sometimes. some days she feels like a sham. some days she's so happy to be a girl.

the thoughts motivating that shift from being good to bad, too. sometimes shes happy to be a girl because it feels right and makes her comforted. sometimes she's happy to be a girl because "women have it easier" or "women don't have to do as much"- her thoughts are rooted in these misogynistic ideas, but she doesn't say them out loud anymore. usually. i think she'd have her moments, but there's not this outright evil to them anymore that she used to have.

i just... i think marjorine would go a similar route to victor chaos, no matter what. the hell that she'd trap herself in to be herself- whatever that ends up being- would be no better than the years of quiet isolation.

i want her to be cute and happy and bouncy and rainbows and hello kitty but fuck, she won't let me give her that when i think about how it'd happen.

i'm sorry for rambling on so much; i really wish i could give her better.

what I would really enjoy seeing is more people, if you're taking the trans butters hc and going along with Marjorine, exploring how they get from what we actually have in canon to Marj realizing she's going to transition. Which I know there's a really delicate line to walk with "misogynic guy -> trans woman" which can lead to some really bad implications if not handled correctly, and sometimes a queer hc doesn't need justification. But I really wanna know like from a character development perspective how people would get from point A to point B. Especially since so many people are really really into this headcanon right now

[shveris]

malibu

mysta was scared of the ocean but he was glad shu brought him to the beach.

tags: bubble tea shop au, strangers to lovers, my writing style drifts into the poetry area some times good luck deciphering that

chapter two: i

the way he jumped at the soft vibrations of his phone made mysta groan internally. since when was he so desperate?

shu: it was okay, today was busier than usual :(

mysta: damn prolly cuz of the fair

shu: ahh yea u might be right mr detective

mysta: 🕵🏻 !!

the brunette put his phone away to bury his face in his pillow. exchanging number with shu was the bravest thing he has done since asking that one girl in kindergarten for the black crayon, just to get scolded for making her cry. at least shu didn’t seem to mind texting him every now and then, even replying during his shifts and sending him pictures of drinks he made for himself.

it may have only been a week but mysta felt like shu has always been a part of his life; a constant, flowing with each other like waves (rocking back and forth in a steady and unchanging rhythm) and he felt so incredibly ridiculous for thinking about that innocent angel in that way. he didn’t even swear or curse, he’d notice, and it made his chest arch in a way he can’t seem to explain to himself even.

every word shu exchanged with him gave him a certain sense of nostalgia and comfort, his voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket during london’s grey winter and mysta felt like the world would finally be at peace with shu existing next to him.

his phone vibrated, startling him once again.

shu: wanna go to the fair tmrw? c:

mysta could hear the rushing of his own blood in his ears, forgetting to breathe for a second while hovering his thumbs above his keyboard. he was sure the train of thoughts he followed a split second ago, had just vanished into thin air, along side any other coherent words of the english language inside his brain.

mysta: yea!

mysta: dont u have work tho?

shu: o yea u can pick me up at 8:40

mysta: sounds goodd

everything inside his mind was racing; racing against the suddenly rapid beating of his heart; the realization of spending an evening with shu trying to kick in. does this count as a date?, he asked himself, trying to calm down.

he sat up in his bed, combing a hand through his ash brown hair. mysta felt like he was sinking into the pit of his darkest thoughts, low self-esteem nagging at every inch of his skin — sickness was setting at the pit of his stomach, adrenaline making him dizzy.

mysta knew he had to keep himself grounded, but not at the bottom of the ocean. long nails with chipped black paint leaving red lines on the skin of his throat and the soft burn of it reminded him of diving down too deep, the lack of air making him lightheaded in a way he’d never enjoy.

when mysta left the house the next evening, nina was nowhere to be seen (not that he would care because he didn’t) and the summer sun was still out and very much too bright for him — at least malibu was giving him good reasons to wear his sunglasses again because the uk surely didn’t — but he could handle it now.

the shop still had all its lights on, though the sign at the door said “closed” and shu, on the inside, was wiping down the tables while one of his co-workers stood at the sink. mysta wasn’t sure if he was allowed to enter so he softly knocked on the glass of the door. shu shot him a happy smile and a thumbs up before he turned around, speaking to his colleague.

two minutes passed before the ravenette came out of the store, a small bag strapped around his chest. they awkwardly looked at each other before mysta remembered “this might be a bloody date” and offered shu open arms, a shy invitation for a hug, and how could shu ever say no to a blushing mysta.

“how was your shift?”, the ashen asked after they parted, feeling awfully stiff — mysta will probably never get used to physical touch as he grew up without it, and strange things scared him, but the bad attempt at small talk could’ve also been a reason for the sudden amount of stress. to his relief, shu answered with a genuine smile and words, and it felt like a dream come true, that’s how deep mysta had his head in the ocean.

the walk to the fair was short, filled with a light breeze, warm words, lucid laughter. the bright and colored lights of the venue made shu look like a painting mysta could stare at for hours and he’d never get tired of it.

seagulls around were patiently waiting for opportunities to strike for food, screaming children and loud voices went blurry in a hunch the closer they got.

mysta would be lying if he’d say he liked those kinds of events — with a lot of people, colors, sounds, smells —, most of the time he avoided them for the sake of not getting sensory overloaded. but tonight, he could feel it, would be different. tonight he had shu with him, shu who took away all his attention, even on the ferris wheel when they could look over all of malibu; all the way to point dume while catching the silhouettes of the santa monica mountains, with the channel islands and santa barbara to the other side.

the various food stalls did a great job at making mysta a poor man, which was also partly his fault since he insisted on paying for everything (much to shu’s disagreeing (cute) pout). they had also found a takoyaki stand and after tasting their food, the ravenette had told mysta he could make better ones at home, which he took for a future invitation and, perhaps, a second date.

the sky above was dark and clear, mysta had asked to put his sunglasses into shu’s bag and he could only see a few stars above them, the lights of the city cancelling out magic he liked to watch when in the uk; the part of london he lived in was small and not as lively as malibu. over the years the brunette taught himself to love the loneliness those suns, constellations and galaxies would grace him with. the sky felt wide and open, he could see danger approaching, he could prepare himself to get lost — the ocean on the other hand was blurry, filled with pressure and everything humanity didn’t dare touch.

“frick.” the ravenette looked over his shoulder, someone had run into him and didn’t even apologize. mysta didn’t like how packed it was but chaos was a natural occurrence when it came to darkness, he should know and shu knew it better.

“c’mere”, mysta shuffled as close as he could to shu and grabbed his hand, he was so scared of losing shu in the crowd — it would mean getting a panic attack in the middle of a dozen people, strangers, people he didn’t know- oh god, why were there so many people? air, where was all the air all of the sudden? why did he even say yes to this? this was an awful idea, he should leave, immediately-

“let’s go over here”, shu swiftly intertwined their fingers, dragging the ashen through the stream of chatter to a more open area with activity booths and arcade machines. his brows were furrowed when he looked at mysta’s face in the dim light the lanterns and decorations offered: “deep breaths, deep breaths.” shu’s free hand made up and down movements with every breath he took, hoping the visualization would help mysta. people passing them looked at shu with judging gazes, and usually he would go hide somewhere the sun would never reach, but mysta’s panicked expression felt like a hit to the stomach.

“okay, okay”, the ashen whispered after he felt more stable again, “okay, i’m okay.”

“you are, you’re doing well. i’m here, i gotchu.” shu looked at him with so much innocent determination, it washed away the strain on mysta’s lungs. his sunset eyes stared into shu’s before he was starting to take in his surroundings again.

“let’s relax a bit”, the ravenette grinned, relieved, before giving mysta’s hand a gently squeeze — and both of them didn’t want to let go of each other — before dragging him to a stand that seemed to be advertising goldfish catching.

they watched each other play their rounds, giddy laughter whenever the little fish managed to jump or wiggle off the flimsy scoop net and in the end neither of them managed to get a good catch (or any catch, really).

mysta wasn’t quite surprised when he found out shu was above averagely skilled at crane games although he still couldn’t stop himself from staring at the ravenette in awe. mysta was holding onto their sixth pokémon plush toy and he could already feel all the kids around them staring in envy.

“another one, let’s gooo, babyyy”, shu presented a snorlax to the brunette and maybe it was the way his eyebrows rose or how he hold it up to him, but mysta couldn’t stop himself from letting out a small laugh.

“come on”, shu grinned and helped the other one with carrying the different plushies. mysta looked at him, puzzled: “where to?”

“the kids will eat you up alive if we won’t share some of our prizes”, the ravenette giggled and mysta swore someone just stabbed him with amor’s arrow, right through his chest, into his fast beating heart.

it didn’t even take them five minutes to hand out all the toys and when it came down to the last one, shu insisted in keeping it. mysta didn’t mind, he won it himself and he personally had no need for more plushies as his bed at home in the uk was already overflowing with those.

“so vulpix is your favorite pokémon?”, mysta grinned but instead of answering, shu’s face flushed bright red, which mysta didn’t even notice due to all the different colored lights painting the scene like they were in a dreamy movie.

“y- yeah!” mysta had to stifle a giggle, shu was an awful liar.

after about two hours shu could feel exhaustion settle in his bones, he bet he could stay longer if it weren’t for his shift. walking and standing around started to hurt his feet and his legs felt heavy to a point where they had to sit down on one of the benches for some rest.

“i’ll bring you home once you feel be’er again”, the ashen said and the tone in his voice was unfamiliar to shu, though he didn’t dislike it. he’s never heard such a determent mysta so he welcomed the change of air, feeling glad to be seen as trusted enough to see an unfiltered version of his new friend.

“sure”, shu smiled, tired but still welcoming, “we can walk along the beach, i live nearby.” mysta got up, dusted off his pants, and offered his hand to the other. shu grabbed it without hesitation and thanked him after getting pulled up. their fingers intertwined automatically and the both of them enjoyed the subtly touch of warmth, the secure feeling it gave them. they were each others life boats, softly seesawing on a never ending navy fabric between the stars mysta never got to reach and the salty water shu had seen one too many times in his life.

once they walked off the fair, the loud chatter got drowned in beach sounds. they had to cross a small plastered part with vehicles parking left and right, trailers attached to most of them. mysta was almost fascinated with the bizarre sight until a group of four men stopped them in their path.

mysta may have grown up in a secluded area of london, but distance had never stopped gangs. this wasn’t the first time he’s encountered gang members and it will never be his last — simply because he did not possess something even close to luck — so his first instinct was stepping in front of shu. there was no way he’ll let them harm the obsidian haired and if this would be some of those crazy cliché manga he read in his spare time, he’d stab out their eyes because “how dare they lay their eyes on an angelic being like shu yamino”.

“you’re kosaka’s kid, right?”, one of them asked and mysta got upset at the darkness he usually loved to bathe in because right now, he couldn’t see shit, only the silhouettes of four strongly build men with shoulders wider than his fridge.

“kosaka’s what?”, the ashen asked in confusion, dragging shu behind him even closer to his back (and to be really honest with himself: the weird angle his arm was at began to hurt him), trying to shield him away.

“don’t play stupid, boy, we saw you with her multiple times. even the color of your hair is similar.” oh. oh. they meant nina. mysta completely forgot about her last name as he associated it with his dad; all memories and information in relation to him got shoved into the back of his mind when he was old enough to understand that he was the reason his mom cried every evening for three years.

“i seriously don’t know who you’re talking about, i don’t know no kosaka or wha’ever you mean, dude”, he explained slowly, eyes narrowed, tone cold and careful. what did these men want and how was his weird aunt related to this? for christ’ sake, he didn’t even know the name of the street she lived in.

“he’s a good liar, you have to give him that!”, another guy laughed with a raspy tint in his voice, as if his throat was made out of rough corned sandpaper — it wasn’t, mysta knew, he was just a smoker and a heavy one at that, too —, “let’s just get him, she’ll react instantly.”

get him? get? as in “kidnap”? oh hell nah.

mysta’s legs were faster than the four men’s thinking process’ as he death gripped shu’s hand and ran back to the fair, into the clutter of people. the yells behind him doubled in volume and amount since mysta did not really care about the three kids he just ran over or the middle aged woman with her portion of overpriced fries.

they fought themselves through the crowd, taking turns and corners over and over; if mysta was good at something, it was mind games. he knew how to trick people, knew how to get rid of them, knew how to fuck them up real good if necessary. and for mysta, shu was his top priority and after looking over his shoulder to make sure shu wasn’t about to pass out, all he saw was a determent expression and parted lips, a small sign to the pathway to success.

they never let go of each other because if they would drown, shu was there to stop them and mysta knew that reaching for the stars would keep them afloat for a while.

chapter 1 / 3 / 4

the fic on ao3 and my twitter